


Ashes

by mmorgan317



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nick Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-12 11:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 212,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmorgan317/pseuds/mmorgan317
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of the ashes of two, a Grimm is born. But between two worlds, his heart is torn. Which life should he choose? For either way, he will lose. Nick whump. Hint of Renard whump. FYI - Cross posted on fanfiction.net!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1: While I was watching the fight scene at the end, I kept wishing that TPTB would injure Nick. I mean, I know he’s a Grimm and a supposedly bad-ass one but still, I find it hard to believe that he got through his first fight without a scratch. SO, I’m writing it where he did get hurt. :-D Gotta love a whumper, right?! Come on, you know you love my stories.. :-D 
> 
> 2: Also, I’m changing a bit of the fight scene so that it not only makes sense but works for my “nefarious” purposes. Hope you don’t mind too much. ;-)

Part I

Nick walked through the warehouse, his gun held at the ready and his ears open. To his right, he heard the sound of a scythe being unsheathed and he whipped around, cocking his pistol as he moved. Though he’d had the afternoon lesson with the older weapons, he actually preferred to use his gun; it was best for stopping someone in their tracks while doing the least amount of damage. 

The noise, as it turned out, was just a diversion because the minute his back was turned, a Reaper attacked. It was easy enough for him to get out of the way before the sharp blade was plunged deeply into his back, his Grimm instincts kicking in more so than anything else. But he knew reflexes weren’t everything.

He backed into what appeared to be a heater to protect his fragile spinal chord and held his arms out wide, flattening himself against the metal behind him so that the Reaper would have to work hard to get his body. The Reaper swung and the handle of his scythe smacked harshly against Nick’s right wrist, hitting the right nerve with just enough force to send the gun flying. In a flash of metal, the gun went spinning across the floor. He watched it go, hoping it would land somewhere close by and easy to get. It didn’t. 

Another Reaper came out to join the fight just as the first knocked the gun out his hand. They both swung viciously with their scythes, both aiming to kill him as quickly as possible. The Grimm did the only thing he could think of: he threw himself sideways, miraculously adding a spin to it that he’d only seen in movies. 

Quick though he had been in his decision and move, he hadn’t been quick enough. Pain seared through his left leg during the turn, followed by the sensation of fluid streaming up and down the limb. He landed on the concrete floor, the sounds of his body hitting the floor drowned out by the constant swishing of the two blades that fought marvelously for the honor of killing him. 

Nick gritted his teeth as he hit, thankful for the adrenaline that now coursed through his veins like blood, aiding him in the fight. While the two Reapers continued to swing (and miss) at him, Nick grabbed the closest weapon in his bag. He didn’t know what it was called, but to him it was just a baseball bat with pointed spikes on it. 

Swinging it at the nearest Reaper, Nick forced the Wesen to back up so that he could get some room and so that he could stand up to meet the second (or first depending on if you’re going by appearance). The Reaper swung his scythe, aiming the point for Nick’s neck causing the Grimm to bring the bat up to meet him before it cut off his head. The downward motion their weapons created gave Nick enough of an opportunity to elbow the Reaper in the face; his mind barely registered the pain in his elbow as it met the Wesen’s cheek. 

It was at that moment that the second Reaper joined in, giving his comrade time to reorient himself. He swung at Nick, barely missing the detective’s shoulder, and Nick took the opportunity to swing at him with the bat. He gained a hit on the Reaper’s face, and then used his right leg to kick the Wesen’s stomach, knocking him back into the same heater-like-machine that Nick had been backed against earlier. He faltered a little with all of his weight on his weakened and injured leg but he didn’t let it slow him down. 

He swung again, hitting the Reaper in the stomach then turned his attention to the first Reaper who was ready for another volley. The Wesen swung downwards where Nick met him with the bat, stopping him from tearing into his already injured leg. 

It was a weak defensive point, however, because the Reaper used his position to bring his scythe upwards towards Nick’s right, forcing the Grimm to try and adjust his hold without letting go. He managed, but only barely and was forced to release his hold on the next downward strike. The Reaper took that as his cue to renew his attack with vigor and swung at Nick’s stomach with all his strength and speed. 

Unable to do anything more, Nick jumped back to get out of the way, once, twice, three times in order to avoid getting slashed by the scythe. When he noticed that the Reaper was gearing up to deal its signature decapitating blow, Nick did the only thing he could think of – he threw himself to the ground. 

It took all of forty seconds for him to figure out that the first Reaper had beheaded the second. The sickening sound of the head landing on the floor was his first clue, the headless body of the Reaper was his second; but the thing that really drove it home was the inhuman roar of rage that echoed from behind him. 

Taking advantage of the lull, Nick grabbed the crossbow. He’d just scooted back to the heater-machine-thing when the first Reaper turned around, still howling in fury and whipped its scythe down at Nick. Without blinking, Nick fired the crossbow, aiming the arrow right into the Reaper’s throat, effectively cutting off his bellowing as his lungs filled with blood. The Reaper fell to the floor to Nick’s right, dead. 

Nick sat with his back against the machine, panting heavily as the adrenaline slowly began to fade from his system. He leaned his head against the machine while he tried to calm his breathing, closing his eyes while he took a moment for himself. His heart was beating faster than it should be and he wanted to give it a moment to slow down. 

Deciding it was time to get up and get the bodies taken care of (not to mention checking on Bud and his friends) Nick slowly got to his feet. He immediately collapsed with a cry of pain, landing hard on his left side. With all the excitement from the fight out of his system, he now felt the pain that scoured his lower left leg and the blood that still dripped down it. 

“Nick?” Bud’s worried voice called through the warehouse. “Nick, are you okay?” 

Nick heard the scurrying of three pairs of footsteps as Bud and his two friends scampered through the warehouse, searching for him. He panted a bit as he waded through the pain, waiting for it to recede so that he could speak normally. Much to his dismay, it wasn’t doing so very quickly. 

“Nick! Oh, man, are you okay?” Bud queried as he came to sit in front of Nick. The Grimm smiled as Bud reached out with shaking hands as though to examine Nick’s bleeding leg. 

“Bud, relax, I’m fine.” 

“That doesn’t look fine, that looks pretty bad,” Bud countered, panicked but firm. He licked his lips nervously for a second, then reached out and spread the tear in Nick’s jeans open, exposing the deep, jagged gash. 

At first the wound was hard to see. Nick had his leg stretched out in front of him, thus hiding the injury. Gently, Bud rotated Nick’s leg, pivoting it at the hip, and laid it down to rest on the outer side. The cut was long, spreading from the inside of Nick’s knee down and across the back of his calf, ending just above the outside of his ankle

Bud and his friends gagged at the sight, looking anxiously from Nick’s face to his leg and back. Nick sighed, able to tell that they were close to running around in panic. His hand noticeably shaking, he pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he could think of to call. 

“Nick, hey!” Monroe’s cheerful voice greeted after four rings. “Did that Eisbiber ever come forward?” 

“Monroe, I need your help,” Nick gritted through clenched teeth, ignoring his friend’s question. Amazingly Bud had retained enough sense to try and apply first aid to Nick’s leg and it was taking all of the Grimm’s strength not to cry out in pain. As it was, he groaned deep in his throat and pushed his head against the machine to the point of pain; it wasn’t a perfect system but it worked well enough to take his mind away from the searing heat in his leg. 

There was a brief pause where Nick could tell Monroe had frozen, picking up on the sound of pain in his voice. Nick wanted to say something, anything that would assure his friend that he was alright, but he knew he couldn’t do it. Not only would Monroe see right through the ruse but it wasn’t exactly a part of their friendship to be so emotional, so he remained silent. 

“Do you need help with the case?” Monroe asked, sounding as though he was perking up at the mention of help. 

“Sort of,” Nick ground out. He actually let out a short cry as Bud tied the makeshift bandage around his calf, applying pressure to the tender muscles and torn skin. The Eisbiber winced at Nick’s cry, but gently lifted his leg onto a short box that had been found nearby. 

“Nick?! Nick, what’s wrong?” Monroe asked, sounding alarmed. 

“Monroe, I’m going to hand the phone over to Bud and let him tell you where we are. I’ll need you to bring your emergency medical kit and a shovel.” 

Without another word, he handed the phone over to Bud and focused on riding out the pain that raced through his throbbing leg. His hands clenched and released as an outlet for the pain, slowing in their repetitions the more time passed. The elevation and bandaging helped, but it still stung like a mother. 

He absently listened as Bud explained to Monroe where to find them, after assuring the Blutbad that Nick was, relatively, alright and would remain so until he arrived. Nick chuckled at his friend’s worry. He appreciated it but it wasn’t necessary since the injury wasn’t life threatening. 

Bud’s two friends kept watch for Monroe or anyone else that may arrive, while Bud himself stuck close to Nick. It warmed the Grimm’s heart how protective they were being of him while he was injured, but he highly doubted they would be of any use to him if another threat appeared. 

As if taking that as their cue, footsteps echoed from just behind Nick and he felt Bud freeze in fright. Nick grabbed his gun, which Bud had retrieved earlier, and held it close to his right hip, preparing to fire if the need arose. His heart pounded in his ears as it responded to the renewed adrenaline, threatening to drive all sound out of his mind. He drew in a shallow breath, trying to calm his nerves so that he could focus. The pain in his leg and the realization that they were no longer alone was making it hard for him to remain calm, but he refused to give in to blind panic. He was a police officer for God’s sake; he was trained to handle stress like this, even with injury. 

Nick’s mouth literally fell open when none other than Captain Sean Renard came into his line of sight. He was too stunned for a moment to realize that the look of his normal calm captain was nowhere to be found and instead a furious captain had replaced it. Beside him Bud immediately cowered and bowed, but Nick felt no need to do either. 

Both police men swung their guns in the other’s direction, one waiting for the other to figure out who they were. In the end it was Renard who’d lowered his gun first. Nick eventually followed, but it wasn’t immediate. The Grimm instincts inside him were screaming at him to keep the weapon trained on the man, but eventually his detective’s side kicked in and reminded him this was the Captain and not a threat. 

For a minute, neither man spoke. Nick was too busy trying to comprehend why his captain was there and looking totally unsurprised to find Nick leaning against a machine in a warehouse with two dead bodies lying near him. 

Renard, it seemed, was too busy inspecting the bodies. He looked at the one that still had its head, using his foot to turn the head so he could see the left side, before letting out a growl of something Nick knew to be Wesen. 

Something akin to indignance, power, and fury slammed into Nick like a freight train punching through a thin sheet of glass. It knocked the breath out of Nick’s lungs and sent his head spinning from the sheer force of it. He felt almost as though he’d been plunged into a deep, freezing river and he couldn’t break the surface. He swallowed thickly, almost struggling to breathe regularly as he did his best to appear calm and collected while the police captain continued to inspect the Reapers’ bodies. 

“Did you kill them?” he asked Nick, low and cautious. He wouldn’t look at Nick and that fact bothered the Grimm for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

“Yes,” Nick replied, refusing to show remorse since he felt none. He attempted to straighten up so that he looked stronger than he felt, but stopped with a hiss when the movement put pressure on his wound. 

Renard’s head snapped over to Nick’s position. The normal green hue had fled the irises, leaving a deep orange in its wake. In a strange way, it was almost beautiful to see the colors replace one another and Nick couldn’t help but stare in wonder. The Captain’s eye sockets seemed to elongate, helping to accentuate the no-longer-human-eyes, but if it hadn’t been for Nick’s abilities, he knew he wouldn’t have noticed a thing. The eyes traveled over Nick’s form, landing almost immediately on the bloodied bandage and the torn jeans. 

“It appears they were able to get a shot of their own in as well, I see,” he commented dryly. He turned so that his entire body was facing Nick and approached him as though he were an injured but dangerous animal. “May I take a look?” 

Nick’s first instinct was to very adamantly say no, but something kept him from saying it. He wasn’t sure if it was the almost gentle way the Captain had asked or the fact that he’d seemed to be struck dumb by the man’s appearance that had stopped him, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. As though he were a frightened child, too scared to speak to the adult, he simply nodded his assent. 

With a nod of something Nick couldn’t figure out, the Captain knelt down beside Nick’s injured leg. He didn’t seem to either notice or care that his expensive suite was getting dirty as he leaned over and began to gently finger the limb. 

“The bandaging looks well placed,” Renard commented as he gently inspected it. Thanks to the slight elevation, the bleeding had slowed considerably, but it had been sufficient enough at first to soak through the makeshift wrapping. The Captain looked up to where Bud was hiding just behind the machine and complimented him, “You did well.” 

“Th-thank you,” Bud replied, stuttering just as much as he did when he was in Nick’s presence. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Sire.” 

Whoa! Wait a minute – sire? Who the hell was he calling sire? Couldn’t be the Captain, could it? Oh, this mystery just keeps getting bigger and bigger, he silently ranted, though Nick suspected Renard had been able to read it in his eyes. 

“It needs re-bandaging,” Renard announced as though he’d just made a diagnosis. He didn’t even bother consulting Nick before he left and retrieved a kit from his car, wherever that had been, then came back. “How deep is the cut?” 

“Uh, pretty deep, I think,” Bud answered nervously. He was no longer hiding behind the machine, but his hands were wringing so much he could have performed surgery if he’d had a bar of soap with him. “I thought it best to stop the bleeding so I didn’t really look that hard.” 

Renard nodded though he didn’t reply. Gingerly, he moved Nick’s leg from the uncomfortable box to a more comfortable position on his suit-covered thigh. He slowly removed the bandage, taking care not to re-open already clotted portions of the cut, then tossed the soaked linen away. It landed on the floor with a splat that made Bud flinch, but as far as Nick could tell, Renard took no notice of it. 

He opened the small white box he’d retrieved and quickly spread some gel-like substance over the open wound before Nick had even had a chance to ask what it was. The accompanying burning sting, typical of raw alcohol in a wound, told him what it had been – antibiotic ointment. He hissed as the fire slowly spread from the surface of the cut down further until it charred his bones. 

Though Renard’s eyes briefly flicked upwards, he offered no apology for the pain he’d just caused. Nick figured it was because both of them knew that it was necessary to help prevent infection, so he did his best to downplay the pain by simply clenching his teeth instead. 

Next, Renard withdrew a rather long piece of padded gauze and wrapped it around the entirety of Nick’s lower leg. 

“Come here and hold this in place so that I can continue,” he instructed an uneasy Bud. Slowly the Beaver did as he was instructed; offering Nick a small wince of apology when he’d accidentally applied a bit too much pressure to the tender limb. 

Renard’s hands were steady as he skillfully wrapped a constriction bandage loosely around Nick’s leg. As he watched, the Grimm found himself becoming almost mesmerized by the movement and the hands themselves (though he would never admit that to anyone out loud). They moved almost rhythmically as they worked; in and out, over and under, in and out, over and under. The hands were strong and able and the veins on the back stuck out just enough to be attractive. 

“Ah!” Nick cried when one of the injured calf muscles decided to begin cramping. His entire body tensed as it responded to the nerves that were screaming their discomfort. He grunted out a breath as he rode the wave of pain, praying that the muscle would relax soon because he knew he couldn’t take much more of it without shedding any tears. 

When Nick heard a familiar growl, he did his best to relax his body. The Grimm knew that Monroe could smell the pain on him and he also knew that the Blutbad was protective of those he considered a friend. If Monroe thought the Captain was hurting him, things were bound to get bloody, so he tried to calm the man by showing that he was alright. Getting up to bodily protect Renard would, not only, not work given his injury, but he was pretty sure that the man would be highly offended and unappreciative of the movement so he knew it wasn’t an option. 

“Monroe!” he called in an effort to grab his friend’s attention, but it was too late. The Blutbad was already charging at Renard, his teeth bared and red in his eyes. 

In a flash of expensive clothing, Renard stood, rotated his torso and pulled out his gun all before Monroe had even had a chance to get close. Nick could tell that the action had been well-practiced; making him wonder how many times the man had had to do that. By the time Monroe had arrived at his target, Renard had his gun aimed squarely at his chest, making the clockmaker run painfully into the barrel before he could stop. 

“I am not your enemy,” Renard stated. Given that the Captain was facing away from Nick, he couldn’t see the expression on the man’s face, but if he had to guess, he would have said that it was the same expression he carried on his face everyday – calm indifference. 

Monroe growled his answer. Apparently he wasn’t convinced that the Captain hadn’t been hurting Nick on purpose, so Nick felt he should intervene. 

“Monroe, I’m fine,” he said calmly, at least partially able to mean it. “Did you bring the shovel?” 

It took a while but the red slowly faded from Monroe’s eyes as he looked from the man holding him at gunpoint to Nick on the ground. Very briefly, Nick could have sworn that he saw recognition dawn in Monroe’s now brownish-red eyes but he was at a loss as to how the two could possibly know one another. Then again, if Renard was a Wesen, it wouldn’t be too hard to imagine that they had crossed paths at one time or another. 

“Monroe, did you bring the shovel?” Nick asked again when his friend still hadn’t looked at him. 

As though snapping out of a daze, Monroe turned his attention to Nick and for a second, the Grim saw blood invade the brown eyes once again before they returned to their normal color. 

“Yeah, man, I brought the shovel but, are you okayt?” Monroe asked in return. His eyes traveled down to Nick’s slowly bleeding leg then slowly back up to Nick’s face. 

“I’m fine,” Nick soothed, seeing anxiety in the Blutbad’s eyes. He offered his trademark crooked smile, hoping it would help. 

“Well, seeing that you are now in capable hands, I will go,” Renard interjected but not uncomfortably. “I have some business,” the implications in the word made Nick shiver, “to take care of. Nick, you and I will talk when you’re ready.” 

“Is that when I think I’m ready, or when you think I’m ready?” Nick asked, completely baffled at the hostility in his own voice. This was his captain for God’s sake; the man could easily reassign him or just make his work life a living hell if Nick pissed him off. But, seeing as how Nick had always been the kind of guy to say what’s on his mind when it came to things that were important to him, the words had tripped off his tongue without thought. 

Amazingly, Renard just smiled, though it was only half filled with humor. 

“When you are ready,” he clarified. He started to walk away, paused then turned back around. “And don’t bother showing up for work on Monday,” he warned almost genially, “I already know you won’t be allowed to work.” 

Nick’s eyebrows rose into his hairline at what he thought may have been a small joke. “And what if I have a doctor’s note?” he countered, wincing when he realized how flirty that had sounded. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Renard replied. “Your boss won’t let you get through the front doors.” 

With that he walked away, leaving Nick and company to stare at his back in confusion and wonder. 

TBC


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces a Reaper that I personally named in my fic Vindictam de Tenebris. Whether that is his actual name or not, I have no clue but it’s what I gave him. :-)
> 
> Also, I realize that the episode “Leave it to Beavers” took place after the holidays but I’m setting it in October instead because I love the fall and I love stories that are written in the Fall.

Part II

“Dude, he is your boss?!” Monroe exclaimed, mystified. “Do you even know who he is?” 

“No Monroe, why don’t you tell me,” Nick sarcastically responded. 

“He’s The Guardian,” Monroe supplied as though that explained everything. When the Grimm continued to stare at him unperturbed, the Blutbad continued with an eye roll, “He’s the Protector of Portland. Also a bit of something else, which I won’t tell you cause that’s not my place, but, dude, he’s a legend! Very few have actually met him and you, you’ve been working with him for what, two years?” 

“Going on three,” Nick replied absently. His mind still hadn’t managed to wrap around the fact that he had killed two reapers in one fight, let alone that his boss was not only part of the Wesen world, but a legend in it. 

Now both Bud and Monroe were staring at Nick with awe in their expressions. Nick shifted, uncomfortable with both the attention he was getting and the hard ground that was under his now aching body. Muscles unused to the exercise he’d just done were beginning to tighten, letting him know that he’d be lucky if the only thing that hurt in the morning was his leg. 

In the silence, Nick heard Monroe sniff and he watched as the red from earlier leeched back into his friend’s eyes. Monroe inhaled again, this time deeper than before, and closed his eyes as though savoring the smell in his nose. 

“And that brings me to the reason I called,” Nick said, knowing that Monroe had finally noticed the two dead Reapers not ten feet away. 

“You mean other than to act as a nursemaid,” Monroe countered with his usual humor. 

“Yes, other than that,” Nick granted, because at the time that was also his second motive. “Now, help me up.” He held out a hand and waited for it to be grabbed. 

“Nick, I don’t think you should be standing just yet,” Bud interjected worriedly. 

Both Nick and Monroe slightly jumped at the Beaver’s voice. Embarrassingly enough, they’d forgotten that he had been there. 

“I appreciate the concern, Bud, but I’ll be fine,” Nick replied, still waiting for Monroe to help him up. But the Blutbad refused to help. 

“I’m with the Eisbiber on this one,” Monroe explained, looking down at Nick’s injury and sniffing once again. 

It unnerved Nick that his friend could tell how much he was still bleeding simply by inhaling, but he also knew that, at times, it could come in handy. 

“The bleeding may have slowed, but the minute that you get upright all the blood will rush back down to the wound. Not only will that hurt but it will increase the bleeding once more,” Monroe continued to explain in his normal no-nonsense, this-is-the-way-it-is manner. He looked down at the two Reapers and pointed at them, “So what do you want me to do with them?” 

Nick chewed his lip. Until now, he hadn’t actually considered what he wanted to do with the bodies. Anger swelled in his chest as he thought of the Reapers and their seemingly endless vendetta against him and his kind. 

“They aren’t going to stop coming, are they?” he asked no one in particular. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what they do.” 

Nick nodded, indicating he heard, though still somewhat lost in thought. With an inhale, he turned to Bud, and his two friends who had finally rejoined the group. 

“Why don’t you and your friends go home?” he suggested, not wanting any of them to be here for this. Not only did he not want to make them accomplices to something that could potentially get them killed but he also knew that they were uncomfortable being there in the first place. “Monroe and I can handle it from here.” 

Bud looked from Nick to Monroe and back again. His mouth opened as though to say something, then he shut it again. The entire process was repeated a few times before the Beaver actually gathered the courage to voice his thoughts. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” 

Nick smiled, ignoring Monroe’s surprised eyebrow raise. Beavers weren’t uncaring in the least, but to form such an attachment to one that they all assumed was their enemy was a bit surprising to be sure. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m sure Monroe will make me go to a hospital to get checked out.” 

“Hell yeah,” Monroe answered without missing a beat, making Nick roll his eyes and smile. 

Again Bud looked from Nick to Monroe and back again before nodding, “Okay. But, call us if you need anything. My wife makes this really good salve, it heals practically everything, I swear. Oh and the quilt she made would be good to use if you get cold; I imagine you won’t be up to being under a lot of blankets for awhile.” 

“Thanks Bud,” Nick interjected quickly, knowing just how much the man could talk. 

The Beaver nodded and stood up. He gathered his two friends in an armless grasp and herded them all out to the truck. Arnold opened his mouth as though to say something but shut it. Nick nodded, telling the frightened young man, “you’re welcome,” for the silent “thank you for the help” that he’d obviously wanted to say. Nick knew the man wasn’t much younger than him, but the way he acted reminded the Grimm of the way a younger brother would act towards an older brother. 

Once the three Eisbibers were gone, Nick began to position himself so that he could stand. He didn’t care what Monroe or Bud thought, sitting on the ground for so long was getting uncomfortable and tiring. 

“Whoa, whoa, what do you think you’re doin? I told you to stay down, remember?” Monroe argued, rushing over to Nick’s side, although not to help. He put a firm hand on Nick’s chest to keep him from getting any further. 

“Monroe, I am not going to sit around while you do all the heavy lifting-”

“-Really? Since when?” Monroe interrupted. 

Nick glared at him but ignored the comment. “Are you gonna help me up or not?” 

“Fine, yes, I’ll help you up. Jeez, you must be one of the neediest Grimms I have ever met,” Monroe complained as he firmly grabbed a hold of Nick’s offered hand and pulled. 

Nick head swam from the quick change in position, causing him to sway slightly. He put his hand to his head while he waited for things to settle and clear. In his opinion it took entirely too long for that to happen, but eventually he was able to look at Monroe in exasperation. 

“Monroe, how many Grimms have you known?” 

The Blutbad lowered his head, but not out of shame - it was at being caught over-exaggerating. “One,” he answered. He walked over to Nick’s injured side and slipped Nick’s arm over his shoulder, giving the Grimm a crutch to lean on. 

Knowing that his point had been made, Nick chuckled. The chuckle got cut short when circulation returned to his lower leg. The throbbing that had been barely noticeable before was now intensified by a factor of one-hundred, causing Nick’s mouth to open in a silent exclamation of pain. His teeth clinked as his jaw snapped shut. He was doing his best to will himself to not make a sound, but he was quickly losing the battle. 

“Gah,” he finally groaned, hissing when he touched the toe of his shoe onto the floor. Instantly, the torn muscle in his calf flexed and the skin separated a little more. 

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” Monroe warned when he saw that Nick was trying to place some weight on his leg. “So, now that you’re standing, what exactly do you plan on doing?” 

Nick opened his mouth to answer but stopped when he discovered that he actually didn’t have one. His brows furrowed to become one unibrow as he contemplated his next move. He looked around, searching for something that could hold him up so that Monroe could discard the bodies and noticed an inactive machine just to his left. 

“Help me over there,” he instructed, nodding his head in the direction of the machine behind his friend. 

“Great! Then what?” The Blutbad huffed a little as Nick leaned into him, but he supported Nick’s weight without complaint. 

“Well,” Nick began, panting from the strain of having to essentially hop on one good leg, “I thought I’d hold myself upright while I, as you so eloquently put it, let you do the heavy lifting.” 

“Smart ass,” Monroe retorted under his breath: as they were in such a close proximity, Nick heard it anyway. He laughed breathily at Monroe’s comment, sounding much like he had when he’d been attacked by a Siegbarste. 

The two friends slowly made their way over to the machine, both of them taking care not to injure Nick further. It was hard for Nick to not only allow Monroe to take most of his weight, but to not attempt to put weight on his leg; the limb instinctively went down to the ground to help him walk. He hissed a few times when the toe of his boot actually came into contact with the ground, earning a glare of annoyance from Monroe each time. 

“You never said what you wanted to do with these guys,” Monroe reminded him once Nick was supporting himself. 

Nick nodded slowly, showing that he’d heard. Blue-grey eyes were transfixed on the body of the headless Reaper. It was a gruesome sight, but not enough for him to pull his gaze away. The blood had coagulated and clotted where the head had been severed, and Nick could only imagine the kind of fun some bugs would have if they simply left the body where it was. When his eyes locked on the head, Nick decided what needed to be done. 

“We need to send them a message,” he announced, grimacing when the pain in his leg spiked. Hopping to avoid putting pressure on the injury, Nick shifted a bit so that he was steadier on his foot. It was a little draining to stand there, supporting oneself on one leg, but he would be damned if he sat down again. 

“Well, you know,” Monroe began, picking up an abandoned scythe, “for sending a message, two heads are better than one.” 

And with that he swung the weapon down, cleanly slicing off the other Reaper’s head. 

When he was finished, he looked up at Nick, placing the scythe on his shoulder as though it was a pick-axe, and asked, “Now, what do we store them in?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Captain Sean Renard walked into the Portland bar and headed straight to the very person he was there to see. His posture was erect and proud, spine straight and shoulders back without throwing out his chest. His expression was open and relaxed, but hazel green eyes focused on each and every Wesen in the place, daring them to do something they would regret. Several of the Lowen rumbled in their chests as he passed, but it only made Sean smirk. They still weren’t happy with him for what he had done to Taymor. 

“Why have you called me here?” a sneering French voice inquired. Leroux glared at Sean, annoyed at being summoned by the Protector. 

“I want some information,” Sean replied, sighing as he joined the Reaper at the table. “And who better to get it from than you.” 

Leroux offered a mocking smile of laughter, “Flattery will get you nowhere Captain.” 

“That wasn’t flattery; that was a statement,” Sean corrected, his normally soft voice a near growl. He in no way wanted this thing to think he was trying to flatter it. There were few men Sean would try to flatter (a certain Nick Burkhardt being one of them) but the Reaper had never made the list. There were other ways of getting what he wanted. 

A pang of loss stabbed through Sean’s heart at the thought of his fallen soldier, Adalind. He knew he’d been harsh with the young woman, but it had been true – as of that moment, she had been of no further use to him. Still, he had appreciated her for more than her abilities as a Hexenbiest, though those had certainly mattered most. She was beautiful and she knew how to exploit that in her favor. Sean missed the way she did that with him, but he wasn’t about to call her and admit it. Where was she nowadays? Was she still in Portland? 

“What is it you want, Regnant?” 

The word was spat out of the Reaper’s mouth with so much scorn and disgust that it actually made Sean smile. Yes, he liked that the Reapers hated him, because it gave him a slight edge over them; he truly didn’t care if they existed. 

“I want to know why you sent two Reapers after my Grimm,” Sean growled, his more possessive side coming to the fore. Though Nick only worked for him, the mere fact that he resided within Sean’s Protectorate meant that he belonged to the captain. He hoped that Nick would be his in other ways later on down the road, but he wasn’t going to push, either. 

Nick. The thought of the Grimm filled Sean’s head with images of the man. His beautiful blue-grey eyes that could dwarf the fiercest of storms when he was angry; his thick ebony hair that often trickled down the left side of his face, dripping little strands into the previously mentioned eyes; the prominent cheekbones that almost begged to be stroked with the back of a hand; his lips that often thinned when he was mad, but otherwise looked absolutely delicious to chew on. 

In his memory, Nick smiled and Sean felt it warm his heart, spreading a sense of giddiness through his blood stream. Oh, that smile could light up a room and bring sunshine to the darkest day. Yes, Sean Renard, Captain of the Portland Police Department and Protector and Regnant of Portland was unashamedly in love with the resident Grimm, Detective Nicholas Burkhardt. 

Sean squelched the urge to smile at the pleasant picture of the Grimm in his mind. He held his frown in place while he waited for Leroux’s answer. 

“I am sure I do not know what you are talking about, Captain,” Leroux replied, yawning widely and glancing pointedly at his watch. It was clear that he had other plans, but Sean wasn’t going to let him leave until he was absolutely sure that the Reaper was telling the truth. 

“I’m talking about two Reapers – one of which you’ve sent before – coming to Portland, stalking, then attacking my Grimm,” Sean hissed, barely refraining from grabbing the Reaper across from him and squeezing until he felt bones breaking. 

Leroux raised one bushy, salt and pepper eyebrow. “I did not realize that he belonged to you.” 

“He is within my Protectorate, therefore he belongs to me,” Sean summarized, taming the anger in his voice so that it sounded more like his usual off-handed factual tone. 

“I see,” Leroux replied. “Well, I can assure you, Captain, that if there are members of the Verrat in Portland, we did not send them here. And, once I discover who they are, they will be dealt with.” 

“They have already been dealt with,” Sean replied with a cold smile. 

“I should have known that you would kill them,” Leroux sighed.

“I didn’t kill them, the Grimm did.” 

Dark brown irises quickly fading to dandelion yellow snapped up to look into Sean’s. The Reaper loosed a growl full of anger deep in his chest, the sound vibrating into the Regnant’s. 

“He is a threat and deserves to be dealt with,” Leroux hissed through sharp teeth. 

“He is only a threat to those that go after him. Had they not attacked him while he was trying to protect a witness, they might have left with their heads.” 

Another growl, this time deeper and louder, rumbled through the bar, grabbing the attention of all within. 

Sean waited a moment, the satisfied smile firmly in place. Figuring that he had lingered long enough, the Captain stood, pushing his chair back with his legs. 

“Well, I will leave you to your thoughts, but remember: so long as he remains within my canton, the Grimm is off limits.” 

He walked out, exuding the same power as when he walked in, this time with a cruel smile on his lips. It was probably wrong how much he’d enjoyed delivering that bit of news to Leroux, but he didn’t care; in his business, wrong was almost always right. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick gingerly lowered himself into Monroe’s VW Bug, biting his lip against the strain it put on his healthy muscles. He hissed when he accidentally rubbed the back of his calf against the seat, silently cursing the fact that Monroe had such a tiny car. While he could freely admit that he wouldn’t be able to get into his truck yet, he didn’t understand why such a tall guy as Monroe had to drive such a small vehicle. 

“You okay?” Monroe inquired from his spot in the driver’s seat. 

“Yeah, I’m peachy,” Nick snapped sarcastically. In all honesty, he was getting sick and tired of that stupid question, but he understood that if Monroe had had a better question to ask, he would have. 

“Have you called Juliette yet? You know, to tell her what happened?” 

Nick sat down in the car, breathing a sigh of relief and exhaustion as the worn seat absorbed his weight. He leaned his head back, resting it against the headrest and closing his eyes. 

Oh God, Juliet. He hadn’t even thought of calling her and he had no idea what he was going to tell her. How exactly was he going to explain this to her? What could he say? “Hey honey, sorry I’m late. My leg got sliced open by a scythe because there’s an entire race that wants me dead.” Yeah, no. 

“You haven’t, have you?” 

“No,” Nick sighed. “What am I going to tell her, Monroe? The truth?” 

“Well, no; obviously you lie to her.”

“That’s just it! I’m sick of all the lying. We could be making wedding plans if I didn’t have to constantly lie to her,” Nick snapped, his emotions spilling out before he could stop them. 

It had hurt when she’d said no to his proposal. In the back of his mind, he’d almost expected her to say no but that hadn’t helped to cushion the blow to his pride and his heart. After he’d walked away from where she sat on the couch, Nick had let the tears flow, silently crying the pain out until he had nothing left to give. He knew she was right, though; they didn’t have much of a future if he couldn’t be honest with her. But would she really thank him for telling her the truth, or would she run? 

Sure, she’d stayed with him through being attacked and kidnapped, but she’d been able to rationalize that as his job coming back to bite her in the ass. If he’d told her the real reason why she’d been kidnapped by a psychotic Daemonfuer and taken to a cave full of copper, he doubted she’d be as gracious as she had been that night. His heart sent a jolt of pain through his chest and Nick had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. 

Monroe patiently waited for him to sort through his thoughts and feelings before he ventured, “What other choice do you have? You can’t exactly tell her the truth, can you?” 

With his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, Nick admitted something he’d known all along. “I have to if I want to keep her.” 

The silence that followed the announcement was profound and full of questions, questions Nick could hear Monroe sifting through, trying to decide which one to ask. His friend finally settled on the one Nick didn’t want to think about, “And what if she doesn’t like what she hears?” 

Nick swallowed thickly, trying to move the lump in his throat. The very idea that Juliet would leave him brought tears to his eyes and made his chest constrict. His mouth opened so he could breathe through the pain that had nothing to do with the injury to his leg, his tongue running over the teeth in the back of his mouth.

“Then I’ll have to let her go.” 

TBC


	3. Chapter III

Part III

Juliette Silverton D.V.M paced across her living room floor, anxious for her boyfriend to return. He’d called earlier to tell her that he was making sure a witness to a violent crime got home safely, then he would be home, but that had been hours ago. She knew Portland was a big city, but she also knew that it didn’t take three hours to drive someone home, get them settled and then go home. 

On her thirtieth trip across the room, her phone rang and Juliette vaulted over the coffee table just to get to it. 

“Nick?” she answered, unable to keep the worry out of her voice. Her heart raced as she impatiently waited for his voice to come over the line, pounding so hard in her chest she would have swore Nick could hear it. 

“Hey honey, I’m sorry I’m late, but I’m on my way home as we speak.” She heard the sound of someone talking in the background and she frowned when she recognized the voice as Monroe’s. “Okay, fine, we are on our way.” 

“We? Why is Monroe with you? When you called me earlier, you said that you were escorting a witness home.” The confusion in her voice as she spoke couldn’t be more real. Then the worry kicked in. “What’s wrong?” 

There was a pause while Nick obviously decided what he should say. “Okay, first, I’m fine.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a good beginning,” she replied, sitting down on the couch behind her as she silently prepared herself for the bad news she knew he was about to give.

“There was an accident while I was escorting the witness home, and I ended up having to go to the hospital.” 

The no-nonsense way he explained everything helped ease the worry that had increased when he’d said the word ‘hospital’, but considering she was already anxious that something bad had happened, it hadn’t really worked like he’d obviously wanted. 

“Hospital? Are you okay?”

“Juliette, I’m fine,” he assured, even adding a smile to his voice. “I cut my calf pretty good, but a few stitches and I’m good to go.” 

“How bad are we talking?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She had a feeling he was downplaying the ‘few stitches’ part of his speech a bit. 

“About fifty?” he replied in more of a question than a statement. 

“Fifty stitches,” Juliette exclaimed, surprised. “And you’re allowed to bear weight on the leg?” 

She thought she heard Monroe snort, “I told you she wouldn’t believe it,” but she couldn’t be sure. At any rate she was grateful that he was with Nick since Nick didn’t seem too keen on taking care of himself. 

“Well, no, of course not, but I’ll only need the crutches for a week, until the stitches heal.” 

“It’s going to take a week for fifty stitches to heal?” she countered. Though she wasn’t a medical doctor, she knew that it took longer than a week for that many stitches to heal. “Was the cut superficial enough to heal that quickly?” 

“Give me the phone,” Monroe commanded over the phone. Juliette then heard Nick yelp in surprise at having his phone taken away before Monroe’s voice came fully onto the line. “Hey Juliette, it’s Monroe. Listen, we’re almost to your house and when we get there, I’ll repeat the doctor’s orders.” 

Her head turned to the right when she thought she heard brakes squeal outside the door. She waited until she saw the sight of an old VW Bug pull up to the curb before she hung up the phone (while the boys were still on the other line) and opened to the door to walk out onto the porch. The night was cool, making her wrap her shawl further around her shoulders to guard against the chill. Her heart gave an extra painful beat when she saw Nick struggle to get out of the car while his friend, Monroe, grabbed a set of crutches from the backseat. 

For the most part Nick was still mostly dressed. His left pant leg was split open from the inseam up to just above his thigh. White gauze wrapped itself almost snugly around his lower leg starting from the knee and going down around his heel. Beneath the gauze she could see a thick pad almost like that of a band-aid, winding around Nick’s leg like a spiral staircase. 

Juliette’s brows furrowed. What kind of accident could have caused this? 

Nick’s friend Monroe looked perfectly fine. She could tell that he was annoyed and, knowing how bad a patient Nick could be, she didn’t blame him. He had a backpack-like bag slung over his shoulder and a glare glued to his face. 

Juliette fought her desire to run to Nick, choosing to wait for him to come to her instead so that she wouldn’t embarrass him. Though she rarely showed it, she worried about Nick being in his profession, a lot. She worried about him getting hurt and (like most that dated or was married to cops) her biggest fear was that he would be killed while on duty. Seeing him crutching his way up the walkway did not help calm her fears. But her rational mind reminded her that, while he was hurt, it could be a lot worse. 

A shiver that had nothing to do with the gentle breeze crawled up her spine as she remembered when Nick had been attacked in their house. Even now she still saw him lying in the hospital, bruised and helpless. Okay, so he hadn’t been helpless since he’d had his gun, but he’d certainly looked it at the time. His bruised ribs had made him pretty immobile for awhile and she’d felt horrible for being thankful that he hadn’t been allowed to return to work until almost four weeks after he’d been attacked. She’d enjoyed being able to being there for him, especially since he hadn’t felt like telling her what he needed. 

“Hey, you okay?” Nick’s voice greeted with a half smile. 

Juliette blinked and saw, to her surprise, that he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at her with worry. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, pasting on a smile that felt so fake she could have been arrested for fraud.

Nick gave as good a shrug as he could while supporting himself on crutches and began the slow process of climbing the stairs. Again Juliette had to stifle the urge to help him, but this time it was so much harder to ignore. He struggled to maneuver his body up the stairs while precariously balancing on three legs. Every so often she saw his injured leg reach down to try and help, but he would just as quickly retract it with a wince. 

Finally, Nick got inside the house and slowly making his way to the couch where he gingerly lowered himself onto the cushions. Monroe gave her a small smile as he passed her to follow Nick inside, but his eyes spoke his unease. Juliette sighed, closing her eyes in a silent prayer for patience, before following the two men inside. 

She walked in to find Nick slowly elevating his leg onto the coffee table. The grimace on his face made her put her hand to her chest in hopes of erasing the pain the stabbed through it. Monroe remained standing, positioning himself at the far end of the couch, watching Nick try to position himself comfortably with hands on his hips. 

“You might want to add a pillow,” the tall man reminded Nick. The sarcasm in his tone made it clear that they both knew Nick already knew that, but apparently needed telling again. 

Nick’s eyes flashed towards Monroe in a glare and Juliette had to stifle a small chuckle. Yep, Nick was already getting tired of the mother-henning. Still, her lover did as was suggested and passive aggressively grabbed one of the throw pillows, tossing it onto the coffee table then used his right leg to position it under his left. He grimaced when his calf pushed against the pillow, but the pain must have been brief because the expression didn’t last. 

For awhile no one spoke. They simply stood in the silence, awkwardly staring at one another, or Nick who had his eyes closed and his head leaning against the back of the couch. 

“Uh, Monroe would you like something to drink? We have tea, water, or coffee.” 

“No, thank you. I probably won’t be staying long,” Monroe replied. 

Juliette gave him an uneasy smile and nodded. She did her best not to stare expectantly at the man but it didn’t work. He’d mentioned filling her in on the doctor’s orders and she wanted to make sure that he did it before he left. 

His brown eyes met her blue-green, both communicating but each saying something different. She could see that he was wondering why she was staring at him so she decided to try and help him figure it out. She flicked her eyes from him, to Nick sitting on the couch and back again, repeating the process several times when it appeared as though he hadn’t understood what she’d been trying to say. 

Monroe cocked his head to his right, following her glance over to Nick then back at her. His eyebrows were wrinkled in confusion as he followed her gaze, obviously trying to work through what she was trying to get at. Recognition dawned on his face in the form of wider eyes and a mouth open in the form of an ‘o’. But still he remained silent. He looked at Nick once more to make sure that he was still resting, and then hitched his head in Nick’s direction, hinting that he wanted him out of the room before he started talking. 

“Is anyone hungry? I haven’t eaten yet and thought I would make some ravioli,” Juliette said, understanding what Monroe was trying to say. She saw him give her a look of, ‘that’s not what I meant,’ but she ignored it. If she was going to send Nick upstairs possibly for the night, she was going to make sure he didn’t need anything first. 

“I’m good,” Monroe declined earning a surprised eyebrow raise from the man on the couch. 

“Okay. Nick?” Juliette asked knowing full well that he was still awake. 

“Uh, I’m okay,” he replied, keeping his eyes closed. He looked positively exhausted and it made Juliette wonder what exactly had happened tonight. Even after a tough case, Nick never looked this tired. The only times he ever came home and went straight to bed was after the day had been physically draining. 

“You should probably fall asleep in your bed,” Monroe commented, though his meaning was clear. 

“I’m good here,” Nick argued, obviously not wanting to get up again. 

Monroe once again cocked his head to the side, this time studying the position Nick was in and Juliette couldn’t help but join him. Nick was slouched on the couch, his back never touching any part of the cushion. His head and neck were leaned backwards, supporting his torso in a way that looked uncomfortable. Both of his legs were on the coffee table. The injured one was supported by a throw pillow. 

Overall, she didn’t think that that position looked particularly comfortable either, but she remained silent, thinking that Monroe was about to remedy the entire thing. 

“You can’t sleep there man, you’ll wake up with a sore neck and back,” Monroe argued back. Nick gave a shrug, but it was halfhearted. Monroe shared a look with her but it was one she couldn’t interpret. It wasn’t until he walked over to where Nick lay, and scooped him up like a sleepy child that she figured out what he’d been planning and that was only because by then it had been obvious. 

“Hey!” Nick squeaked in alarm. His blue-grey eyes were now open and glaring daggers at his friend. “Monroe put me down; I can get there by myself.” 

“You could, but you wouldn’t and I’m not going to listen to you complain about your back hurting tomorrow.” 

Juliette frowned, though neither man could see it. Would Monroe be hanging around tomorrow? Maybe he wanted to be around to make sure Nick followed doctor’s orders. But that’s what she was here for. It was a Saturday after all – she had the day off. Maybe he didn’t know that? 

“Well, luckily you won’t have to worry about that,” Nick countered with a somewhat cocky smile on his face. 

“Then I’m saving Juliette,” Monroe countered just as he reached the top of the stairs. He stopped, looking down at Nick for directions to the bedroom. But Nick remained defiant and refused to give them. 

“It’s to the left, the only room on that side,” Juliette supplied, refusing to allow Nick to sleep on the couch. She followed the two men to the bedroom, watching as Monroe gently lowered Nick onto the bed. Nick grimaced a little when Monroe’s arm applied pressure to his injured leg, but otherwise he made no sound, making sure to keep his unhappy glare glued to his friend. 

Monroe stood up straight and looked at Juliette, “He’s all yours. I’ll be downstairs when you’re done.” 

“Thanks,” Juliette replied with a smile. “There’s some coffee in the kitchen if you want some.”

Monroe nodded then looked down at Nick. “Be good,” he instructed as though Nick was a small child spending a night away from its parents.

“I’m not a child,” Nick retorted, coming to the same conclusion about Monroe’s tone as Juliette. 

“Really? I wouldn’t have known that by the way you’ve been behaving since we arrived at the hospital,” Monroe returned. He sighed and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Nick and Juliette alone. 

“You really should try to be nicer to him,” Juliette said as she sat down on her side of the bed. 

Nick snorted, “He’d probably think something was wrong with me if I didn’t give him a hard time about something.” 

She silently watched him scoot down so that he was lying down rather than sitting up. He grimaced a few times, but he never asked for help. Were all men this stubborn? Once he was flat, he turned to his right so that he was lying on his side and facing her.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he apologized, running his hand over the side of her face. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, hoping he would give her a straight answer this time. 

“Considering what could have happened, I’m fine,” he replied not answering her question at all. 

“What did happen, exactly?” she asked out of both concern and curiosity. “And how badly is your leg injured?” 

He sighed and dropped his hand down to the bed. When he rolled over onto his back and put his hand to his forehead, she frowned at the withdrawal. He sat up once again, his breath hitching when he dragged his legs instead of using or lifting them, and turned to lean on the right side of his body so that he was once again facing her. 

Knowing that whatever he was about to say was important to him, Juliette remained silent and attentive. When he grabbed her right hand, she gave his a small squeeze, telling him that she was there, no matter what. 

“Let’s start with the easy question, shall we?” he asked in a small joke. His uneasy smile belied his tone, though, so Juliette knew he was nervous. “Essentially, it’s a knife wound.”

Juliette’s mouth fell open. She knew that he often came into contact with dangerous criminals, but how had one managed to slice his leg open from, what appeared to be, his knee down to his ankle? 

Now that she was closer she could see small patches of blood seeping through the bandages. At first it looked new, as if it had leaked through the many stitches he’d received. But upon closer inspection with a trained eye, she could tell that all the stains were dried. Little speckles of it dotted the bandaging around his calf, looking like someone had taken a small paintbrush and had flecked it over the muscle. The biggest spots were the inside of his knee and the outside of his ankle; she assumed that he hadn’t needed stitches in those places, thus the bigger patches of dried blood. 

“And before you ask, I will explain what I mean by that later,” Nick continued hastily, anticipating her question before it came out of her mouth. “The cut was deepest over the calf,” he lowered his eyes as though he didn’t want to say the next part, “cutting a little into the muscle.” 

Surprised didn’t even come close to describing the gasp that had come out of her mouth then – horrified was more like it. Her hand flew to her mouth in an effort to quiet the sound, but when she saw Nick wince, she knew it hadn’t worked. 

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he hurried to explain, “really. I was surprised to learn that it was that bad as well.” 

Tears formed in her blue-green eyes as she imagined the amount of pain he must have been in, but she knew that even her best imaginings wouldn’t reach the mark. She’d had stitches before but the cut hadn’t been anywhere near as deep; it had been superficial compared to this. 

“So, some of the stitches are internal?” she asked trying to stop herself from crying in sympathy. 

“No,” Nick answered immediately, “No, the doctors say that the muscle will heal itself in time.”

It was then that an idea struck Juliette. “Shouldn’t you have your leg elevated?” she asked, knowing from experience the treatment for a torn muscle. He blushed in response to her answer and she sighed, grabbing one of her spare pillows for him to use. She thought of putting the pillow under his leg herself, but she decided that would be a bit much so she just handed it to him and waited until he was done. 

A part of her also wanted to ask if he needed some ice but another part, the more selfish part, held her off. She knew he was planning on telling her whatever he’d been hiding and she didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind, even if it meant that he was in a bit of discomfort for a little while. If she had to guess, Juliette would say that he’d received some form of pain medication while at the hospital so she didn’t think he could feel the pain right now anyways. 

“Well, so much for the easy part,” Nick commented with a sigh as he grabbed her hand within his again. His eyes darted around the room as though he was looking for an exit should he need it. She knew that he wouldn’t make it even if he tried. His position on the bed looked awkward to her and she wondered if he was actually comfortable. Since he was turned to his right, his hips were pivoted so that both of his legs lay on their sides. She supposed it helped prevent him from putting pressure directly on the site of his injury but even still, it would drive her crazy to sit like that. 

Through the silence of the house, Juliette could hear Nick’s breathing begin to speed up. It wasn’t too terribly fast yet, but knowing Nick as well as she did, she knew that he was nervous and slowly beginning to panic. 

“There are some things I haven’t told you,” he slowly began, panting ever so slightly. “Things about Aunt Marie, about my parents, and about me that I didn’t even know about until Aunt Marie came to visit.” She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, “Just, please hear me out? I’m sure that when I’m done you’ll think I’m crazy, but I assure you this is all real.” 

“Nick, you’re starting to worry me,” Juliette said, stating the truth. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, withdrawing from her once again. He turned and shifted so he was sitting upright against the headboard with the pillow supporting his leg sitting under his heel. “I come from an old bloodline, one that is well known. My ancestors were one of the original Brothers Grimm.” 

Juliette’s eyes widened in surprise, “That’s amazing.”

“It is and it isn’t,” Nick replied vaguely, still not facing her. “What would you say if I told you that their stories are real?” 

“I’d say, ‘have you been drinking?’”

Nick laughed, mirthless and cold. She could see that he wasn’t angry by her reply, but she also knew that he hadn’t found it funny either. There was such unease in the way his eyes would slowly turn towards her then go to stare back at the ceiling that she wondered if he was serious. But he couldn’t be; everyone knows that those stories are just fairytale fiction. Weren’t they? 

“You can’t be serious,” she said disbelievingly. He gave her a slight wince and an even slighter head nod telling her that yes, he was serious. “But everyone knows that those are just stories.” 

“No they’re not,” Nick replied with so much sorrow in his voice that she could hear his heart sinking to his stomach. “I’ve seen them, the creatures from the stories. The first case I worked on while my aunt was visiting involved the big, bad wolf kidnapping a little girl. The one where Hank had gotten stung by a bee involved actual bee-like creatures. The man that attacked me to get to Hank had been an ogre.” 

“Nick stop, this isn’t funny,” Juliette scolded, hoping he was joking. 

“Believe me I wish this was some weird practical joke but it’s not,” Nick replied sounding almost desperate. “As a collective, they are called Wesen. Those that are descended from the Brothers Grimm are called Grimms and there is a group or a race out there called Reapers whose sole purpose in life, it seems, is to hunt down Grimms and kill them.” 

“So, you’re saying that there are creatures out there disguised as humans and only you can see them? And that you often run into them while on a case all the while dodging these Reapers who are out to kill you?” 

“Yeah,” Nick answered, looking at her hopefully. 

“I-I,” Juliette replied stunned. “I’m sorry Nick but I don’t know what to say. Your story sounds like one elaborate lie told by a child to cover up for something he’s done wrong.” 

“I know it does but it’s not. It’s all true, I promise. Though, the Wesen can see each other so I’m not the only one who can see them but I am the only human, in Portland, who can.” 

Juliette held her hands up in a stop motion. “Please tell me you’re kidding,” she asked. When he remained silent, she asked him again, “Please tell me you’re kidding.” When his silence remained, she got off the bed and paced. 

There was no way what he was saying was real! But then again, she couldn’t remember him looking more sincere than he did right now. By now she could tell when he’s lying and when he’s not, and she definitely knew that he was telling the truth; well, at least the truth as he believed it. 

The thought that he was simply messing with her for turning down his proposal had crossed her mind but she knew Nick, and he wasn’t vindictive like that. She knew that she had hurt him, badly, when she’d said no, but she had also believed every word she’d told him. Until he opened up to her and told her what was going on with him, she couldn’t say yes. 

She stopped pacing as an idea crawled into her brain. Could that be what he’s doing? Could he possibly be telling her the actual, factual truth, letting her in so that she would say yes? Or is he just fabricating some unbelievable story so that he could say he’d told her what was going on so she’d say yes? 

Turning so that she was facing Nick on the bed, she prepared herself to ask a question she knew would hurt him. “Are you just making all this up so that I’ll agree to marry you?” 

The anxious look on his face instantly changed to one of stunned disbelief. In that moment she could see the pain she’d caused reflecting in his pale eyes as clearly as she could see her hand in front of her. Her heart broke at the sight and tears filled her eyes. She wanted so much to take the question back but she needed to know. 

What she didn’t expect to see was the dark expression that soon covered his face. It looked as though his skin tone had literally gotten darker leaving only his pale eyes to stare at her like ice cold irises of fury. She knew he had a right to be angry but this, this was something else entirely. It felt as though some sort of invisible wave had crashed into her, wrapping around her and slowly drowning her in it. She was suddenly filled with the desire to run rather than face the possibility that his next words would break her heart but she remained firm, refusing to give in. 

“I can’t believe that’s what you think,” he said so quietly she had to strain to hear him. “Why would I lie to you to get you to marry me, when lies are the reason why you won’t marry me?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied begging him to understand her position. “I’m just trying to figure this out. I’m finding it hard to believe that the supernatural is real and you’re smack dab in the middle of it. The only thing I could think of to explain the story was that you were trying to get me to marry you.” 

“I would never do that,” he whispered with a chill in his voice. And damn it if those weren’t tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. 

Juliette chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to think of a way to fix this, but she couldn’t. The only solution she could come up with was one that would look like she was giving in the proverbial towel. She settled for going halfway. 

“I think it’s best if I sleep in the guest bedroom,” she proposed. More tears leaked down his cheeks but he didn’t blink, he didn’t nod, it didn’t even look like he’d heard her. “I need some time alone to think, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt you while I’m sleeping either.” 

She hoped that adding the last bit would help ease everything he was feeling but true though it may be, she doubted it would. He’d done exactly as she had asked; he’d trusted her, given her the piece of himself that he’d been hiding (whether real or imaginary) and she’d betrayed that by questioning his integrity and intentions. 

“Sounds good,” he conceded hoarsely. He cleared his throat then spoke again, “Could you do me a favor before you go?” 

“Sure, what do you need?” Other than me to stay because I can’t do that tonight, her mind added when her mouth wouldn’t. 

“Monroe left the crutches downstairs; I’m gonna need them if I want to get out of the bed.” 

She nodded, “I’ll go get them. Anything else?” 

“No, thanks,” he replied but she doubted if he was telling the truth. Still, she’d accused him of lying enough for one night, so she wasn’t about to do it some more. 

Quietly, she walked downstairs to grab the crutches. The smell of coffee reminded her that Monroe had been down here waiting for her to come down. Oh God, had he heard everything that Nick had said?

Instantly she went into the kitchen to find him, but found it to be empty. After a quick stroll around the entire first floor, she discovered that he wasn’t in the house. She peered out the door to see if his car was still there and it wasn’t. When had he left? How had he left without her or Nick noticing? 

Juliette strolled back into the living room to grab Nick’s crutches then went to take them up to Nick. She stopped when she saw a note stuck to the door. Man, she must really be out of it tonight not to have noticed that when she went to look outside for him! 

Juliette,

I’m guessing that since you haven’t come down yet that you and Nick are talking. It’s good, you two need to clear the air, but it makes for a lengthy conversation that I don’t want to wait around for it to be finished so I’m writing you a note instead. 

In the bag on the couch are Nick’s shoe and sock and the doctor’s written instructions along with a prescription; it’s just a topical ointment to spread over the stitches to prevent the skin from drying out and itching. He should be fine with Advil or aspirin if he’s in pain. 

Now, I know what Nick has said to you and I know that right now you think he’s making it all up, but believe me, he isn’t. All that he’s said is real. 

That said, I do understand if you can’t accept it. All that I ask, if I have the right, is that you make it a clean break. Don’t drag him along for the ride so that he ends up more bruised and broken than he is right now. 

I would say ‘sincerely’ or something like that but I don’t know you that well, so, yeah. 

Monroe

Juliette folded the letter up and put it in her jeans pocket. Tears were now falling down her cheeks so she wiped them away before going back upstairs. She didn’t want Nick to see them, nor did she want him to know about the letter his friend had written. She knew he would fee betrayed that Monroe had left such a note and she didn’t want that for either them.

Blowing out a shaky breath, she began to climb the stairs, wishing she could rewind the night and do it over again because whatever she had expected to come from this night, it hadn’t been this.

TBC


	4. Chapter IV

Part IV

Dawning morning sun streamed brightly through the window, streaking yellow rays across the wood floor before coming to rest on the top of the bed. Nick’s foot twitched under the heat, his nerves alerting him that it was time to wake up. Seeing as he’s only been asleep for three hours, he tried to ignore the internal alarm clock, but it was to no avail. Resulting from years of training, his eyes slowly began to open. 

If it wasn’t for the growing sense of dread in his heart, he would have thought that nothing had changed and that Juliette had simply gone to bed early. But he knew that wasn’t true; he could hear her moving in the room on the other side of the house. His heart broke into pieces when he realized what her separation meant. 

She was going to leave him. 

He’d known it the minute he’d opened his mouth last night that this was going to happen (hell, he’d known this was going to happen before he’d even got home last night), but he’d still managed to hope that she would stay. When she’d accused him of making the entire thing up so she would marry him, it had been a dagger to his soul, driving sharp shards of pain through his body and right into his heart. He could still feel the residue of agony poisoning his blood as it swept through his body.

Deciding that he might as well get up and start the day, Nick slowly began to maneuver his legs off the bed and onto the floor. Immense throbbing had taken up residence in his calf sometime during the night and it only intensified when he placed his foot on the floor. He groaned deep in his throat, clenching his teeth against the spike in pain. 

“Nick,” Juliette’s sweet voice called hesitantly. He heard the concern in her voice, but ignored it knowing it wasn’t going to change anything. She appeared in the doorway, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. Her beautiful red hair was pulled back into loose bun, with several strands falling around to encompass her face. “Hey, you okay?” 

Nick couldn’t stop the hollow laugh that escaped his throat because no, he was in no way okay and he knew she knew that. He grabbed the crutches that she’d placed against the wall the night before, and pulled them towards him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied as he stood, using the action to account for the slight growl in his voice. He paused to breathe and allow the pain in his leg to calm before he started toward the bathroom, moving passed Juliette who remained in the doorway. 

When he came back out, Juliette was sitting on her side of the bed – which had been made in his absence – with a look of mourning on her face and tears in her eyes. He stopped, feeling the breath leave his lungs at the sight. He crutched over to the armchair in the corner and sat down in it before he fell over. 

“We need to talk,” she gently said, as though the tone of her voice could soften the blow of her words. 

“You’re leaving,” Nick finished for her. The mourning tone in her voice seeped into his as he spoke, spreading a mist of sadness throughout the room. 

“Yes,” she whispered sounding as hurt by the decision as he was. 

Nick nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat that threatened to cut off his air supply. If he trusted himself to speak, he would have said something, but he didn’t; he would only end up saying something that would hurt them both worse and they didn’t need that. 

“When do you leave?” he asked, finally. Tears began to cloud his vision which was just as well. He didn’t think he could look at her right now for fear of what it would do to him. When they began to rain down his cheeks, he bowed his head, hoping she didn’t see it. 

“I’m going to begin this weekend and I should be out by Monday.” 

Good ol’ Juliette, his mind interjected, always prepared; even when ending a long-time relationship. 

When he opened his mouth to reply, he found that his voice failed him so he closed it again, settling for another nod. 

“Do you need any help?” God help him, was he really offering to help her move out? 

She laughed a little at his question, “As much fun as that would be, I don’t think you would be able to do much with your injured leg.” 

“True,” he said, giving a little chuckle himself. Maybe he should send the Reapers a thank you note along with his other one. If it hadn’t been for them cutting his leg, he would actually be physically able to help his girlfriend move out. He thought about it for a moment before scratching the idea completely – if it hadn’t been for them, he wouldn’t have thought of telling her everything in the first place. 

“I could,” he cleared his throat, finding it unbelievable that he was offering to do this, “help you pack.” 

“I appreciate that,” she replied with a soft smile on her face, “but I’ve got it. I’ll try to be out of your hair as soon as possible.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he managed to choke out as more tears trickled down. She was trying to make this easier on him? Really? Shouldn’t she know that no matter how slowly or quickly she goes, it’s still going to hurt? 

Uncomfortable silence filed the room, settling over them like a black cloud that wouldn’t leave. Neither Juliette nor Nick spoke; they didn’t know what to say. Juliette sat on the bed with her arms wrapped around her chest, hugging herself in obvious hopes that it would make her feel better. Her eyes were red and puffy – a mirror image to Nick’s no doubt – and tear tracks stained her beautiful face. He watched as she shivered from a silent sob, making him wish he could provide some sort of comfort for the both of them. 

But there was no comfort to be had. This entire thing had been dragged out for far too long and Nick knew it. He hadn’t wanted to believe his aunt when she’d said that he needed to break up with Juliette; he’d tried to do everything he could to balance his two lives. But constantly living in between two worlds never worked for anyone because eventually they would collide and someone would always end up getting hurt. He’d caused this break-up just as much as she had and they both knew it. 

After God only knows how long, Juliette cleared her throat. 

“I’m going to make some coffee; do you want me to bring you some?” 

“No, thanks, I’ll come down and get it.” She opened her mouth to say something then closed it, but he had no problem hearing her unasked question. “I’ll be fine on the stairs, I promise.” 

She nodded, looking doubtful still, and got up to leave. Without looking back at him, she walked out the door and headed downstairs. 

Nick watched her go knowing that he would have to watch this happen one more time before he would be left alone for good, and it shattered what remaining piece of his heart he had left. Once he knew she wasn’t within ear shot, he let the tears really fall. Sobs wracked his body, threatening to shake it apart with their violence. The pounding pain coming from his leg only helped to drive the tears harder and soon he was letting out every emotion he could feel while sitting in the armchair, completely unaware that Juliette was doing the exact same thing one floor below him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Only once Nick’s throat was so raw from crying that it hurt to breathe did he stand up and get ready to join Juliette in the kitchen. He couldn’t believe how hard it was to get dressed with only one leg, but by the time he was done he’d managed to slip on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The really hard part came when he tried to put socks on. 

Giving that he probably wasn’t going to be going anywhere, Nick really didn’t need socks, but it was still kind of cold in Portland and Nick’s feet were already getting chilled just from being out of bed. Getting a sock on the healthy leg was easy compared to the injured one; the diagonal direction of the cut made it hard to lay his calf across his thigh without causing pain to spike in the muscles. The ending cut by his ankle was beginning to scab over but it was still tender, making bending the joint uncomfortable and a little painful. Not wanting to aggravate or annoy the stitches and bandaging, Nick opted for ankle socks instead of his normal crew ones.

Once finished with getting dressed, Nick debated putting shoes on, at least on his right foot, but he decided against it. It was going to be a lot easier to pretend that he was fine if he had two socked feet rather than one socked and one shoed. After heading to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, he headed out to the hall. 

Getting down the stairs felt like a circus act complete with impossible looking tricks and painful winces you gave when watching lions get threatened with whips. With his foot finally on the first floor, Nick began heading towards the kitchen. He stopped cold when he heard Juliette’s sobs echoing from the room. 

God, he did not need to hear that! 

As silently as he could, he crutched over to where she stood with her back to the kitchen doorway. Her hair had been lowered out of the confines of the bun, and now trailed over her shoulders and down her back. She leaned on the counter with her head buried in her hands. Abandoning his crutches against the countertop to his right, Nick enveloped her in a big, somewhat unsteady, hug. 

The effect was immediate. She curled into his side, burying her face into his chest and continued to cry. He fell slightly off balance from the sheer force of her clinging then winced when he instinctively put his left foot down to steady himself. His hands went to her head, stroking her hair in the way he usually did when she was upset and needing comfort from him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, owning up to the part he played in their break-up. He continued to stroke her hair, gently dragging his fingers through some of the tangles in it. As usual he wanted to beg her to stop crying because his heart couldn’t take the sound, but just like the times before, he didn’t do it. He felt he deserved the pain he received this time; it was his punishment for hurting her like he had. 

“So am I,” she said into his drenched tee shirt. He didn’t bother pretending that he didn’t know what she was referring to; they knew this was killing both of them and they both knew she had hurt him last night with her words. He simply held her tighter, forgiving her through the hug. 

A knock on the door brought them back down to reality with a painful thud. Juliette withdrew from him, carefully disentangling herself from his arms. His left hand instantly flew out to the counter to balance himself so he wouldn’t fall over. 

“I called some friends to come over and help,” she said, handing him his crutches so he wasn’t dependent on the counter. “That’s probably them at the door.” 

Nick nodded that he’d heard then watched her walk out of the kitchen to get the door. He jumped when he heard her call his name, followed by the sound of her shoes heading back to the kitchen. 

“Door’s for you,” she said with a quizzical look on her face. “It’s the refrigerator repair guy. He said that he has something for you, to thank you for helping him out with something.” 

“Ah,” he said as he slowly started making his way to the door, each step jarring his hurting leg. “The person I escorted home last night was his friend,” he explained as he passed her. 

“Bud, hey,” he greeted with a smile as he went to the open door. The morning air was crisp and chilly as it slowly swept into the house. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Nick, hey! Yes, thank you. How are you doing? You look better,” Bud lightly rambled as he stepped into the entryway and closed the door. Nick noticed that there was nothing in his hands as he moved, making him wonder if the man really had something for him or if he just wanted to stop by and check on Nick. 

“Thanks Bud, I’m feeling better,” Nick replied, awkwardly stepping backwards to give the Eisbiber some room. 

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. How’s your leg?” He looked down at the leg in question as he asked. Almost out of habit, his hands went to his pockets and began fiddling with something inside them. So he did have something to give Nick! He quickly looked back up, the expression on his face one of embarrassment and unease. “Still hurts huh?” 

“It’s fine Bud, thanks,” Nick waved off, not liking the idea of discussing his injury with a man he was slowly coming to think of as a friend. He barely did that with Juliette let alone anyone else. “Do you want to sit down?” 

“Yes, uh, I mean, no, no thank you Nick, I just stopped by to bring you some of that salve I was telling you about and some thank you gifts from everybody at the Lodge.” 

“You went to a lodge?” Juliette asked, her girlfriend side flaring briefly. 

“Yeah, I met Bud there the other night to talk to some of his friends; I thought I could find the guy who’d witnessed a murder there and Bud was kind enough to invite me in,” Nick answered quickly in his normal no-nonsense tone he used when explaining things to his would-be wife. He sighed, feeling tired from the standing and balancing. “Do you need any help bringing the gifts in?” he asked Bud. 

“Uh, no, no I can get it. You should probably be sitting down anyways,” the Beaver answered, using his hands to point at Nick then the couch to Bud’s right. 

Nick looked from Bud to Juliette, debating if he could get away with not sitting on the couch while Bud did all the lifting and delivering. Upon seeing determination in both of their eyes, he knew he wouldn’t be able to, so he sighed and went into the living room to sit down. He released a silent sigh of relief as he raised his leg to rest on top of the coffee table. 

“Great, I’ll just go get the stuff, okay?” 

“Do you need any help?” Juliette asked out of politeness alone. 

“No. Thank you, but I’ve got it. You just go about your lives like I’m not even here.” He left before Juliette could say anything else, leaving her looking a little stunned. He quickly returned, holding out a small, round can and giving it to Juliette, “Before I forget, here. It’s a salve that my wife makes; heals almost anything. Not right away, of course, but it does help, trust me.” 

Just like before, he left before Juliette had had a chance to respond. She looked down at the can in her hands, turning it over and over a few times before tossing it at Nick.

“I suppose you’ll need that more than me,” she said with a small smile in her voice. Nick did his best to smile in return, but it wasn’t genuine and they both knew it. 

“Well, I guess I’d better get packing,” she said on an inhale, the sadness from before once again coming into her eyes. 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll stay down here.” 

“Thanks,” she said, then turned and went upstairs to pack as much of her stuff as she could in their suitcases. 

Bud came back in a few seconds later, huffing and puffing as he carried in a bushel of apples with a brown package that looked like another quilt on top. Nick’s first instinct was to jump up and help, but the moment he lowered his leg to the floor, pain pulsed hot and fierce through the muscle, so he placed it back on the table. 

Without a word, Bud disappeared back through the door to go get more. It took twice as long as the first time for him to come back and when he did he looked noticeably uncomfortable. 

“Hey, uh, Nick? There are some people here. They say they’re here to help Juliette move out?” 

Nick sighed. He really didn’t want Bud to be here when they’d arrived. It was depressing enough to have Juliette actually leaving; he didn’t need to have Bud here to witness it too. 

“Go ahead and let them in,” he instructed with a defeated sigh. He waited a few seconds before he grabbed his crutches and stood up, wincing when his leg voiced its displeasure about the lack of elevation. He really needed to take some Advil, but he didn’t want to go upstairs to get it. He’d just made it to the door when Juliette’s (and Nick’s he supposed) friends came through the door. 

Derek Jacobson, Blake Norton, and Jessica Fields walked into the foyer, looking uncomfortable and only at the floor. They each carried a “gift” from Bud and his friends.

“Where do you want these?” Derek, the biggest one of them, asked, holding up yet another bushel of apples. His tone was almost angry, but in his brown eyes, Nick saw the apology that the muscular man wouldn’t voice. 

“Uh, just put it over there,” Nick replied, pointing at a vacant spot by the wall where the first was. 

Blake and Jessica followed Derek’s lead and placed their armloads (two pies, two quilts, and several jars of what appeared to be homemade jam) down next to the apples. Both Blake and Jessica offered silent apologies as well when they turned back around. 

Once upon a time all five of them had been really good friends. Blake, Derek and Jessica were old friends of Juliette’s from college, but after a few nights out filled with food and drinks they grew close to Nick as well. He’d called on both Derek and Blake a few times when he wanted just to have a beer with the guys. He’d never hung out with Jessica unless Juliette was there but he knew he could have if he’d wanted to. 

They all stood in the foyer staring uncomfortably at each other and waiting for someone to speak. None of them knew what to say that wouldn’t make things more uncomfortable so they all remained silent. 

“What happened to your leg?” Jessica asked after standing awkwardly for three minutes. Her voice was curious but he could hear the concern in it as well. 

“Work accident,” Nick answered trying to be as truthful as he could without actually telling the truth. “A suspect got the drop on me and caught my leg with his knife.” 

“Ouch,” both Blake and Derek sympathized with winces. 

“How badly were you injured?” Jessica asked once again out of concern and curiosity. 

“Not badly,” Nick replied. “It definitely could have been worse. I’ve been told to stay off it for a week then start bearing weight as pain allows.” 

Jessica’s perfectly manicured blond eyebrows drew together. “That sounds like treatment for a muscle tear,” she said, “Exactly how deep did this cut go?” 

Nick smiled at her, wondering how she knew that’s what the treatment was for. 

“Derek? Blake? Jess?” Juliette’s voice interrupted, saving Nick from having to answer. She came down the stairs, her hair once again back up in its bun. Her eyes were still red and puffy but her friends had the decency not to point it out. 

“Hey,” they all greeted in unison, giving her a hug. Figuring that they wanted some private time with her to express their condolences and see how she’s doing, Nick crutched back into the living room, stopping when he noticed that he really didn’t have a place to sit. 

While the four of them had been talking, Bud had been busy bringing everything in and it now seemed as though an entire Amish community was setting up shop in his living room. Bushels of apples littered the floor along with parcels of quilts and baskets of pies. Jars of homemade marmalade, jams and jellies decorated every empty shelving space he’d once had. And even more baked goods gathered on his couch. 

Nick stood there, staring at all of the treats and pondering whether Bud and his friends would be offended if he gave some of this stuff to Derek, Blake, Jessica, Monroe, and Hank since he knew that he and Juliette wouldn’t be able to finish all of this by themselves. 

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Bud’s voice spoke from beside him, making Nick pivot a little so that he could face him. “I knew it was too much, but they insisted that it all come to you. I could take some of it back if you don’t want it.” 

“No, it’s not that,” Nick immediately argued. He looked around the living room once again, the same shock and awe from before Bud had spoken coming into his face. “But, I don’t think Juliette and I can eat all this by ourselves.” Especially since she’s leaving, he silently added. Turning to his right, he saw the same thought echoing around in Bud’s head as well. 

“That’s okay, I understand,” Bud assured. “Say, why don’t give some to your friends over there,” he hitched his head in the direction of the now empty foyer, “I mean, I know you may not want to thank them for helping since you probably don’t want it to happen at all but, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.” 

“Bud, you read my mind,” Nick said with a half smile.

“And, if you wanted to, you could also give some to your friend. What was his name? Monroe? I mean, I know that he’s a Blutbad and everything but I figure he might appreciate some of the breads, cookies and pie. And I even think there’s a red patterned quilt in there somewhere, you could give him that as well. If that’s not going to be a problem that is, because I know how they get when they see red.” 

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Nick assured with a smile. He sighed, really wanting to get off his feet, “Until then. Do you think you could clear the couch and table? I’d kind of like to sit down.” 

“Of course, yeah, sure, definitely,” Bud quickly replied, scurrying around the room to make as much space as he could. “Sorry Nick, I didn’t even think of that. I should have thought of that though.” 

“Bud, it’s alright, really,” Nick soothed, knowing that the man’s concern was probably formed out of a small amount of guilt. He wanted to tell the Beaver that there wasn’t a need for him or his friends and family to feel guilty because none of this was their fault, but he didn’t want to embarrass the man either. 

Wearily Nick crutched over to the now available couch, being careful to navigate around the many gifts and food items, and then sat down onto the cushions. He gave a relieved sigh at being able to get off his feet, but he still felt as though he were on display at the zoo so he opened his eyes, unsurprised to find Bud staring at him worriedly. 

Nick wanted so badly to ask if Bud needed anything else, but he didn’t want to make the man feel unwelcome. Throughout the case, Bud had been the one to help him out the most. He knew that it was because Bud had asked that the council at the Lodge had allowed him to speak; he knew that it was because of Bud that Arnold had eventually come forward to identify Salvatore as the murder; and he knew that it was because of Bud that his living room now looked like a cover page for Country Living. 

The Eisbiber had shown a great amount of bravery the last couple of days and Nick appreciated it. At first he’d thought of the Beaver as an annoyance; a man who was too afraid of Nick to do more than suck up to him. But during this case he saw just how nice a guy and how strong Bud was; it was a pleasant surprise. 

“Well, I’m going to head out,” Bud announced nervously, pointing towards the closed front door. “Do you need anything before I go? You look like you’re in a little bit of pain there; can I get you something for it?” 

“No, thanks Bud, I’m good. And thank you for bringing all of this over; it really wasn’t necessary.” 

“We know,” Bud replied. “We didn’t do it because we thought we had to. Well, maybe a couple people did because, you know, they’re scared that you’ll cut off their head for opposing you, but most of us did it because we’re grateful to you for helping Arnold, and us.” 

“I was just doing my job, Bud,” Nick replied modestly. 

“Yes and no. You played your role of the detective well, but you also went above and beyond. Most cops would have sent us out the door with no more than a ‘good bye’ and maybe a ‘watch your back’. Most Grimms would have killed us just because we were involved and then because we didn’t act like they’d wanted us to.” Nick winced at Bud’s matter-of-fact tone, wishing that the Wesen community would learn that he wasn’t like that. “You, Nick, are a good person. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different.” 

Nick watched as he walked out the door without another word, wondering if Bud knew how lucky he was to never have to say ‘good bye’ to the one he loved because he had a wife who already knew his secrets. 

TBC


	5. Chapter V

Part V

The rest of Nick’s Saturday passed achingly slow. It seemed that the universe was bound and determined to punish him for something that, for the most part, had been beyond his control. Sometime during the day, he’d managed to put some of that salve that Bud had given him on the cut. It hadn’t been easy, but eventually he’d managed to get enough slathered over the deepest portions. 

Steadily, Juliette and her friends moved boxes out of the house, going in and out and letting the cool October air in. No one said a word to each other as they went through the motions because no one knew what to say. They settled for giving one another awkward looks and half smiles and left it at that. 

The ground turkey in the pan sizzled as it browned; releasing smells of cooking meat and the herbs it was being seared with. Though it often served him well, Juliette was the one that heavily favored the vegetarian food, not Nick. This was his idea of comfort food and it smelled delicious. He finished dicing some red, yellow, and orange peppers and tossed them into the bowl of carrots he’d diced earlier, and then he put the Santouk knife down so he could add it all to the frying pan.

“Mmm, spaghetti,” Jessica commented from behind him. “Please tell me there’s garlic bread too.” 

“Jeez!” Nick jumped in surprise, damn near burning his hand on one of the burners in the process. Once his balance was regained, his right hand went to his heart, feeling it pound frantically within his chest. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she said with a smile in her voice. He turned around to look at her, making sure to keep his hands on the countertop to help steady him. Her face went from a smile to a frown of concern as she watched him, ‘Should you be cooking?”

“Well, I may not be as good a cook as Juliette, but I think I can manage spaghetti,” Nick replied even though he knew that wasn’t what she’d meant. He limp-hopped over to put the cutting board and knife into the sink, giving a grimace when he put as much weight as he could tolerate on his injured leg. 

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it,” she scolded with her thin arms over her chest. “I’ve been sent down here to make sure you don’t burn the place down.” 

Nick smiled wryly, “She doesn’t trust me to cook huh?” 

“It’s more she doesn’t want you to injure yourself further,” Jessica corrected absently. “You guys may be breaking up but she still loves you, you know.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Nick managed to get out before his throat closed up on him. He leaned against the counter, watching the water as it ran down the drain, and let a few tears slip down his cheeks before he quickly dried them and limp-hopped back over to the stove. “I love her too.” 

Jessica stopped him before he reached the stove and gently pushed him into a chair that she’d managed to bring into the kitchen while he wasn’t looking. She then went over and began to stir the meat mixture and checked on the water for the pasta. 

He’d never admit it, but sitting down and getting off his feet felt good. Nick was never the type to sit around while others worked so, not surprisingly, he’d had trouble being the only one relaxing. So instead, he’d waited until the salve had somewhat numbed the injury to his leg before getting up and beginning to organize the gifts in the living room. It had been harder than hell given that even with the salve, he couldn’t tolerate a lot of weight on the leg, but he’d managed nonetheless. 

“You don’t have to hide the tears, you know,” she said as the vegetables and meat sizzled in the pan. Hazel eyes slid to her left to look at him where he sat. “We know this is hurting you just as much as it is her.” 

At those words the tears started again, though he would have said otherwise if he’d been asked. Nick lowered his head in hopes of hiding the effect her words had had on him. His hand once again went to his heart, this time to soothe the pain that burrowing itself into it.

Two dainty hands landed on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. One moved from his shoulder to his back, rubbing gentle circles along the way. The motion helped to sooth the ache in his heart, but really, it only made it more bearable. He inhaled, barely recognizing the sound of his own ragged breathing mixed with a small wheeze. This time Jessica wrapped her arms fully around him, engulfing him in as big a hug as she could. 

“I am so sorry that you’re hurting,” she whispered sincerely into his ear. “I know that you’ve only seen me as Juliette’s friend but I’m yours as well. Call me if there’s anything that you need.” 

The moment lasted all of five seconds. Then she was back at the stove, cooking the dinner for him. Nick could only sit and stare down at the floor while he concentrated on regulating his breathing and locking his emotions back into the pine box that’s buried deep in his soul. 

“So, are they upstairs packing still?” he asked wanting nothing more than to change the subject. 

“No, they’ve moved on to the actual moving out stage,” she replied with a small wince in anticipation for how that would sound to him. He raised his eyebrows at her, expressing that they had already been in the moving out stage all day and she smiled, answering, “Big furniture time.” 

“So you’re here more as a diversion than to actually help,” he surmised with a humorless grin. 

“Sort of,” she conceded, “But she did want me to come and make sure you were careful.” She poured the meat and sauce together then added it to the pasta. 

“Well, I appreciate the babysitting,” Nick said as he eased himself out of the chair. He limp-hopped over to where the plates and silverware were kept and grabbed enough for all of them, leaving everyone else’s on the counter. 

She swiftly grabbed the plate from him and loaded it with spaghetti, taking it to the table when she was finished. “And don’t think of trying to come out here without your crutches,” she called as she walked away. “I’m pretty sure your doctor wouldn’t approve.” 

“Eh. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Nick retorted as he grabbed the crutches and made his way into the dining room.

“I would think that by now, you know that statement isn’t true,” she immediately returned dryly.

Nick, who had just begun to start eating, froze. Her words felt like the hand that drove the dagger into his heart, cruelly twisting until there was a ragged hole in the middle. 

“Oh God, Nick I am so sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Jessica began apologizing. The horrified look on her face showed just how remorseful she felt, but it didn’t help the pain she’d caused. When he remained quiet, she went on, “Juliette didn’t tell us what exactly happened, but she did say that you’d told her the secrets you’ve been keeping, and when you said that, that was just the first thing that had come to my head.” She gave another wince as she realized that her apology wasn’t working out the way she’d liked. “And you know me, I don’t have much of a filter, I say what I think.” 

Nick could only nod that he’d heard. His throat had closed before she’d even tried to explain and right now it was hard enough to breathe, let alone try to calm her worries. While trying to simply regain control of his emotions, Nick began to start eating again. 

Jessica took his silence as anger and simply left without trying to offer another word of apology. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone when another, more familiar set of footsteps echoed through the house. 

“Nick?” Juliette tentatively called. She smiled when she found him in the dining room, still eating. The truth was that he had only taken one bite of the food before he discovered that he didn’t really have an appetite. He didn’t want her to know that though, so he took another bite just to keep the pretense up. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“No,” Nick answered honestly, unable to lie to Juliette any more. “No, I’m not.” 

She walked further into the dining room and sat down in the chair across from him as he spoke, her close presence a cruel tease. “It is a pretty stupid question to ask, isn’t it?” 

Nick gave a sardonic chuckle, “Yeah, it is.” 

“I know, I just-”

“-don’t know what else to say?” he supplied, knowing exactly how she felt. 

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, bowing her head to look at her hands. For awhile the only sound in the house was that of a clock ticking away, marking the passing of time with a resounding tick-tock. 

Knowing that he’ll never be able to finish the food, Nick pushed the plate away and leaned back into the chair to give Juliette his full and undivided attention. It was not hard since she looked beautiful as always, but it also hurt to look at her. 

“I, um, just wanted to let you know that we’re done for right now,” she announced, and Nick wasn’t surprised in the least. Given how quickly she’d made her decision, he knew that she wouldn’t have room to put all of her stuff so she would end up leaving it here until she found a place of her own. “I’ve put all the stuff I couldn’t take into the guest room, so it should be out of your way. I’ll let you know when I can come back for it.” 

Nick nodded, knowing that he didn’t actually need to say anything. He watched as she stood up and walked over to him. Pushing his chair away from the table so that he could stand to give her a hug, Nick unsteadily got to his feet. He leaned against the table since it was on his weak side and enveloped her in as big a hug as he could manage. 

They stayed interlocked for a few minutes, each drawing strength and comfort from the other. They knew this would be the last time they could hold one another without any sort of awkwardness involved, so they were taking advantage of the opportunity. Sure, they could talk on the phone but it wouldn’t be with the same closeness they’d always had. 

“If you need anything, call me,” he whispered into her ear. He wanted to say that, though they were breaking up, they would always be friends, but it sounded too corny so he hoped this would suffice. She pulled away and he kissed her forehead. 

“The same goes for you, you know,” she replied a little teary eyed. “I know we’re breaking up but we were friends before we were lovers and I don’t want that to go away.” 

He smiled when she said what he couldn’t and pulled her back into a hug. Unprepared for the pull, she stumbled a little, knocking into his leg. It hadn’t hurt too badly, but she obviously thought it had because she began to pull away. Not wanting to let you go just yet, he held her firm. 

When she pulled away, Nick felt tears being to fall down his cheeks. This was it; she was walking out of his life for good. Sure she’d said that they would remain friends, but he knew that they wouldn’t be in touch for a few months just so they could try and move on. 

“Be careful,” she wished before giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“You too,” he returned, fighting against saying ‘I love you’. She gave him a partial smile before turning on her heel and walking out. 

Nick fell into the dining room chair, feeling devastated. It was done. He had finally done what his aunt had told him to do, and it hurt just as much as he knew it would. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monroe sat in his house, working on one of his clocks and hoping that the gnawing worry in the pit of his stomach was just last night’s dinner coming back to haunt him. He didn’t understand why he should feel so anxious. Nick was grown man who could very well take care of himself; hell, he’d proven that by taking out two Reapers! Okay, so he’d been injured in the process, but considering their aim had been to cut off his head, a deep gash in the leg wasn’t anything to worry about. Besides, that wasn’t the reason Monroe was worried in the first place. No, Monroe was worried about how the Grimm’s honest conversation with his girlfriend had gone. 

In spite of his better judgment, Monroe had left a note for her to read once they’d finished talking. He’d known they would be up there awhile so he hadn’t bothered waiting for her to come down; instead he’d gone to find a spare piece of paper and something to write with. He actually felt a little guilty for leaving the note—some things he said could definitely be taken the wrong way by Nick if he ever found out about it—but he hoped it had helped her even just a little. 

The Blutbad was actually confused as to why he’d felt the urge to help Juliette since Nick was his friend. As he put his tools down so that he could get up and move for a bit, he pondered that curious fact. He supposed that the note was more for Nick’s benefit than Juliette’s. After all, he knew that if she had dragged everything out then decided to end it after all of that, it would destroy Nick, and that was something Monroe didn’t want or need. The Grimm was needy enough without having emotional stuff to add to the mix. 

When he’d left, he’d done so with the expectation that Nick would be calling him really soon to update him either way. But it had been two days since he’d dropped Nick off at home and he still hadn’t heard anything. Monroe knew that could mean that everything was going well with the Grimm, but he had a sinking suspicion that that wasn’t the case at all. 

A muscle in his calf twitched and Monroe’s leg jerked in response, making Nick’s keys jingle in his pocket. Glad to have a legitimate excuse for checking on Nick, Monroe finished off the very expensive beer he’d started earlier, and then started gathering his wallet, keys and jacket. He wanted to check on the Grimm that had slowly become one of his best friends, and he couldn’t think of a better way to do it than by returning his vehicle to him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was cold, so cold Monroe could see his breath when he exhaled. He shivered a little as a light breeze swept past, causing more fog to appear. Nick’s house was full of light; so full, it looked like almost every light in the house was on. If it wasn’t for the distinct smell of pain that assaulted his nose, Monroe would have found the sight to be welcoming. 

Hesitantly, he knocked on the door, straining his ears to hear what was going on inside the house. When he heard the tell-tale sound of crutches against a hardwood floor, the Blutbad backed up a bit so that it wouldn’t look like he was snooping. 

“Dude,” was all Monroe could think to say when Nick answered the door. 

Balancing tiredly on his crutches, the Grimm looked like he’d been run over by a bus, died and then came back to life—minus all the bruises that is. Dark circles marred the detective’s bright blue eyes, making him look like he had been in a fight and lost. The eyes themselves were red—almost infected-looking if Monroe hadn’t known any better—and bleak. His breathing made Monroe wince and wonder if the Reapers hadn’t somehow managed to break one or two of his ribs; it was ragged and harsh with just enough of a hint of wheezing to make Monroe worry that the man was sick. 

“Nice to see you too, Monroe,” Nick quipped with a ghost of his usual smirk. Monroe couldn’t tell if the man was too tired to put enough effort into the smile, or if he just didn’t feel like bantering with the Blutbad tonight; either way, it didn’t matter. It surprised Monroe to discover that it actually hurt a little for him to see his friend in this condition. 

The Grimm stepped aside, moving just enough so that Monroe let himself inside the house. For a minute, the Blutbad just stood in the entry way, relishing in the warmth, though if he weren’t mistaken it was only a bit warmer inside than it was outside. Had the man forgotten how to turn on the heat? 

“Dude,” Monroe said again as he followed his friend to the couch, “are you joining the raccoon brigade tonight or what?” 

Nick gave another ghost of a smile at his joking question but he didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly made his way into the living room, sitting gingerly down onto the couch once he’d arrived. His head leaned back against the cushion and he released a sigh of God only knows what; it could have been exhaustion, it could have been relief. Hell it could have been pain and Monroe wouldn’t have been none the wiser; all his Blutbad nose could smell was pain and it overwhelmed his senses to the point of making him nauseous. 

“Seriously, man, are you alright?” 

It was a stupid question, Eddie knew; obviously the man wasn’t alright, he looked and sounded half dead and could probably do with a good night’s sleep or two. In front of him, Nick shifted uncomfortably on the couch, giving a slight shiver as well. It was all he needed to know that the Grimm was sick. He hadn’t been able to see it as clearly when Nick had answered the door because the moonlight, while bright, hadn’t been bright enough. But in the light of the house, the flush in his cheeks and the slight sheen of sweat was easy to see. 

Monroe wished that he didn’t already know the reason for his friend’s lack of interest in anything, but the painful silence of the house and the lack of warmth told him all he needed to know – Juliette had left. 

Nick’s hollow laugh echoed through the house and went straight to Monroe’s heart. He had never heard the Grimm laugh like that and he didn’t like it. It sounded like the man had lost everything; his hope, his geniality, his reason for living, and his light. Eddie didn’t doubt that that was the way the man felt right now but he knew that eventually, all that would change. There was no way he was going to tell Nick that though; not only would that be cruel, but it would only serve to anger a man that, while yes on crutches, could still take him in a fight. 

Seeing the way Nick handled the two Reapers the other night proved one thing to Edward Monroe: Nick had officially become a Grimm. 

The revelation scared him a bit. Knowing that the man that felt comfortable enough to barge into Monroe’s house with only a knock ensured that Eddie would do everything he could to stay on the man’s good side; because he did not want to be on his bad side. He had a feeling that Nick wouldn’t kill him, but he couldn’t say the same for himself. His Blutbad side had been suppressed for far too long; the minute it got out, blood would be shed and it didn’t care whose blood it was. 

“No, Monroe, I am not okay,” Nick finally answered. His voice was rough and deep with anger but his blue eyes were now sharper than a knife, focusing on Monroe with such precision he could have been mistaken for a Wesen. He rose to his feet in one swift movement, briefly startling the Blutbad with the quickness. 

Eddie opened his mouth to say that he probably shouldn’t be trying to put weight on his injured leg, but one fierce glare from the blue eyes made of ice stopped him completely. It was clear this explosion was a long time coming, and if Nick wanted to start moving on, it needed to happen. 

Nick paced in his living room, the limp on his left side so heavy it looked like he was barely touching the floor with his foot. With every other step, the Grimm put his hand on the wall, using it to support him where is leg failed. The move was so practiced that Monroe wondered how much Nick had actually used his crutches since he’d got them. 

“I knew this was going to happen, I knew it and yet I still told her. Why? Well the answer is simple isn’t it? I wanted her to marry me, to be my wife; that was all I ever wanted, but does that work out? No, of course not because the universe doesn’t seem content in letting me be completely happy, does it?! No, it would rather I be alone so I can do whatever it is the Grimms did. Well if that’s what it wants, TOO DAMN BAD BECAUSE I AM NOT DOING IT!” 

And with the last explosion Nick grabbed the first thing he could find and threw it across the house. Luckily it was only an apple, but even an apple could be lethal if it’s thrown hard enough, and Nick was no wuss. It slammed into a picture of Nick and Juliette, shattering the glass that had covered it. 

For a few minutes, Nick remained standing. By now the slow, ragged wheeze of his breath was a rapid pant that sounded painful to Monroe’s ears. As though all the fight had gone from his body, Nick collapsed onto the couch, crying so silently that Monroe wouldn’t have known if it hadn’t been for the tears pouring down the man’s flushed face. 

“Feel better?” Monroe asked dryly as he made his way over to the coffee table in front of Nick. He didn’t know if the man had done any more damage to his leg but Eddie wanted to check on it anyways.

“No,” Nick answered in a voice so foreign it could have been anybody speaking. 

Monroe nodded, somewhat understanding how Nick felt. After Angelina had left the first time, this was about how Monroe felt. Granted, he was a lot more violent about everything, but he’d done the exact same thing Nick had just done. He’d thrown things and he’d punched so many walls he’d lost count of them. But no matter how many holes he’d made, Eddie had never felt better afterwards, just more pain. 

“Well, time to make sure you didn’t rip your stitches,” Monroe stated out loud so that Nick would know what he planned on doing. When he didn’t receive a response, he gently grabbed Nick’s leg and lifted it onto the table. 

Amazingly, it didn’t appear that Nick had opened any of the stitches, but there was swelling that he didn’t think should be there. There was also a bit more red around the stitching than he thought was normal so he took a chance and decided to give it a small poke. The affected muscle twitched like it was dancing a jive, causing Nick to tense up and cringe. 

“I’m sure you already know this, but you’re going to need to go back to the doctor for your leg. It looks like it’s infected,” Monroe tiredly announced. 

“Yeah, I know,” Nick replied, grimacing and cringing from what Monroe assumed to be pain. “I’ll call them tomorrow.” 

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking on whether or not Nick should go tonight. The man looked truly exhausted, almost like a strong wind would knock him over. And though he knew infections were tricky little things and should be taken care of as soon as possible, the Blutbad also knew that he had something back at his house that would help. The problem was that he didn’t trust Nick to take care of himself or recognize when something was wrong. Clearly, he hadn’t cared that he’d gotten sick practically overnight so why would he do something if he got worse? 

Resigning himself to a long night on Nick’s couch, Monroe gave in, “Fine but you aren’t sleeping on the couch. You need a real night’s sleep in a bed.” 

Nick didn’t argue. In fact, he didn’t even look like he’d heard. He just kept staring down at his still-raised leg, looking at it as though it might have the answers to the universe. 

On one hand, Monroe supposed that it was the reason the Grimm was in this position in the first place; but on the other, he also knew that this needed to happen months ago. Though Monroe was loathed to agree with Nick’s aunt on anything, he knew that she was right. Nick should have broken up with Juliette shortly after finding out about his heritage. Trying to walk in between two worlds never worked out well for anyone; Monroe would know, he tried it when he’d first become a Wiederblutbad. Needless to say, it didn’t end well for Monroe. 

“Come on, man, I don’t have all the time in the world,” Monroe urged when Nick didn’t make a move. 

“Who died and made you my mother?” Nick groused grumpily. Never the less, he slowly grabbed the crutches he’d abandoned earlier and began to hoist himself off the couch. He swayed a little once he got upright and Monroe put his hand on the Grimm’s shoulder to steady him. 

“Whoa, you okay?” he asked, concerned by Nick’s pallor. 

Nick offered a mocking smile, “Peachy.” 

“Okay, smart ass, let’s go,” Monroe returned. He resisted the urge to smack the Grimm upside the head, choosing instead to step out of the way and wait for the man to begin the slow journey upstairs. 

“Again, when did you become my mother?” Nick grumbled, stumbling along towards the stairs. He faltered for a second, making Monroe roll his eyes in exasperation. 

“Oh for the love of Mike,” Monroe cursed before he swiftly scooped Nick into his arms and began carrying up to the bedroom. 

It was a testament to how sick Nick truly was that he didn’t really complain about the free ride. Bleary, fevered eyes looked up at Monroe and a cheeky grin spread on his face. 

“You know, this is the second time in three days that you’ve carried me to my bedroom,” Nick pointed out. “Monroe, do you like me?” 

“Shut up,” Monroe answered, snorting his displeasure at the idea of the two of them romantically involved. “You are way too high maintenance for me, man. Trust me.” 

“Am not,” the Grimm replied, offended by the insinuation. 

“Dude, out of all the responses out there, you go with ‘am not’? What are you, twelve?” 

Monroe shifted the weight in his arms, uncomfortable with the amount of heat he felt radiating off his burden. He didn’t actually care about the response; he just wanted to keep the man awake so that he could stuff acetaminophen down his throat before he crashed. While Nick was sleeping, he would go and grab the ointment for the infection. 

Turning to his left he walked into Nick’s bedroom and placed him down on the bed. 

“You’re twelve,” Nick returned, rather childishly. He moaned as he shifted in the bed, snuggling into the covers and pillows like the child he’d just been acting like. 

“Nice comeback,” Monroe answered. After going into the bathroom and grabbing the medicine and a glass of water, he returned to the bedroom and handed both to Nick. The man looked up at him like he’d just been handed poison. 

“Take it,” Monroe instructed when it appeared that Nick wasn’t planning on it. He waited with his arms over his chest, watching as the Grimm slowly downed the two pills and the entire glass of water. “Good. Now, you stay there like a good little Grimm while I go and get something to help fight the infection.” 

When he didn’t get anything more than a mumble, Monroe turned around and left. Nick would be fine while he was gone but he still didn’t want to take too long in grabbing what he needed. He was gone and back within twenty minutes, thankful that they lived relatively close to one another; it helped that it was past eleven o’clock at night and there wasn’t any traffic. 

He returned to find Nick in the exact same position he’d been left in—fast asleep and sprawled out on the bed. Taking the opportunity while he had it, Monroe carefully took the compression bandage and gauze off Nick’s leg and began applying the ointment he’d retrieved. He made quick work of the doctoring and was out of Nick’s room before the Grimm had even moved. 

By the time he settled down on the couch, it was almost one. He’d tried going to bed earlier but his mind wouldn’t let him until he’d forced some more water down Nick’s throat. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, silently praying his dead ancestors weren’t planning revenge on him when he died. 

If someone had told him when he was younger that he would be sitting on a Grimm’s couch, taking care of said Grimm while he was sick, Monroe would have laughed in the person’s face, then probably ripped their throat out. 

Life certainly does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t it? 

TBC


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for not updating sooner! I'm still not quite used to posting/updating on here (my main forum is fanfiction.net). 
> 
> Here's the next three chapters. I thought that I had more on my backup harddrive than that but apparently I don't so the next few will have to wait until I have access to my other computer (this fic is spread across three, lol). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Part VI**

When Nick next woke, it was to the sun barely streaming through the windows of his bedroom and the smell of homemade bread wafting through the house. His brain was still too fuzzy from the fever to even wonder _why_ there was the smell of fresh bread, so Nick merely turned over so that he lay on his back.

 

 _Ow,_ his body groused when he moved. His muscles felt heavy and weak, even the slightest movement felt taxing. Behind his eyes throbbed a headache so fierce it made his vision blurry, making Nick to squint to see the random shapes and cracks in the ceiling. The wound on his leg pulsed in time with his heartbeat, sending jagged shards of pain throughout the limb.

 

It took a good ten minutes for him to recall the past three days, and by the time he had, the sun had fully set. Wait a minute, why had the sun set? He had to go to work! Hang on, why didn’t his alarm go off?

 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Monroe greeted far too cheerily for Nick’s pounding head. Vaguely, Nick recognized something in the Blutbad’s hands but the fever he still had was making it too hard for him to think properly.

 

Nick winced at the sound of his friend’s voice, sluggishly bringing a hand to his head in hopes of clamping down on the throbbing temples. Heat poured off him in waves; he could feel them crash into Monroe as they`` spread outward. And still it didn’t do anything to help cool him down. His eyes burned, almost painfully so, so he closed them, wanting to cool them down with what little liquid he had left in them.

 

“Still feeling like crap huh?” Monroe surmised, though he didn’t sound any less happy than when he came in. His footsteps shuffled from the bedroom door to Nick’s side of the bed, stopping to place what sounded like a tray onto one of the bare dresser tops. The sound echoed through the bedroom, taunting Nick with its emptiness.

 

 _Ha, ha, Juliette left and now you’re all alone,_ it teased and tormented as it pounded viciously through his head.

 

A cool hand placed itself on his forehead and Nick found himself leaning into the touch.

 

“Still hot, I see,” Monroe commented dryly. The cold hand left, along with Monroe’s footsteps, and went into the bathroom where Nick heard the sink’s faucet turn on.

 

Time was obviously not Nick’s best friend right now; he thought Monroe had been in the bathroom for hours and if he’d been asked, he would have said that, in the time Monroe had spent screwing around, his fever had begun to sear the skin on his bones.

 

The cold came back, but this time in the form of a washcloth. Icy water dripped down the sides of his head, disappearing into his hairline as it evaporated. More water splattered onto his face and chest as Monroe splashed it onto his skin.

 

Nick was torn between cringing away from the cold and whimpering in delight. At first the water was uncomfortable, but after a millisecond it became pleasant. More water splashed onto his skin and this time Nick did whimper.

 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Monroe groused, and Nick could imagine an over exaggerated eye roll playing into the mix as well.

 

“Monroe,” Rosalee’s voice snapped, surprising Nick’s subconscious mind.

 

“What? It’s not that cold.”

 

“It probably is to him. His fever is still high enough that the most tepid water would be freezing.” She paused for a moment then said, “Now help me prop him up so we can get some fluids into him.”

 

The time it took Monroe to get him settled upright wasn’t that long, Nick knew that, but it was long enough for the Grimm to recognize one thing: it hurt. God, he hated being sick! Injuries he could handle, but sickness sucked.

 

Another washcloth was placed on his head, replacing the now warm one. This time the water that splattered onto his skin was followed by yet another cool washcloth; this one was wetter than the one on his forehead. Water dripped off it, soaking into the light tee shirt he wore as it traveled down his chest.

 

Oh yeah, that definitely felt good.

 

Both washcloths were removed from his face and Nick found himself missing the cold. He opened his eyes slowly, not sure if he actually wanted to know what he would see or not. The first thing he saw was the royal blue of a washcloth closing the distance between it and his forehead but the next thing he saw was Rosalee’s warm smile.

 

“Hey,” she greeted in a gentle voice. She dragged another wet washcloth down the side of his face and chest.

 

“That feels good,” Nick responded. His subconscious mind berated him for saying that of all things when he should be asking _when_ she got there, not to mention _why_ she was there.

 

She chuckled deep in her throat, “I’ll bet it does. Your fever was almost one-hundred and six before Monroe called me.” She threw a look over Nick’s body where he assumed Monroe stood. “The wound on your leg was badly infected by the time I got here. But between some ointment Monroe’s grandmother made and some herbs from the shop, you’re finally on the mend.”

 

“Mm,” Nick acknowledged, though he’d meant to say more.

 

Of their own accord, Nick’s eyes closed but it wasn’t long before Rosalee’s voice was urging him to open them back up. “Nick, I know you’re tired, but I need you to open your eyes again. We need to get some sustenance in you before you can go back to sleep.”

 

“Mph,” Nick objected, weakly trying to turn his head away from the spoon that was being shoved into his face.

 

“Hey, don’t look at me for help,” Monroe said when Nick apparently turned his direction. “I’m with her.”

 

“And in more ways than one,” Nick responded before he could think about it. He winced when he realized how the comment had sounded and the throbbing in his head intensified. “Ugh,” he groaned, putting a hand on his head, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

 

“It’s fine,” Rosalee assured, shoving a spoonful of homemade chicken noodle soup into his mouth while she had the chance of it being open.

 

Nick grimaced at the heat. Normally cold soup didn’t appeal to the Grimm but when he was as hot as he felt, it always sounded glorious. He opened his mouth to say something about the temperature, but soon found it full of more soup.

 

“Kay, you ready for some Tylenol?” Rosalee asked. The clinking of a bowl and spoon being set down soon followed her question, followed by the rattle of a pill bottle.

 

Nick winced as the sounds resounded through his head but he didn’t answer; he figured it was a rhetorical question anyways.

 

“Now, we’ll let you get some rest,” Rosalee promised after she’d given Nick the medicine.

 

“What about the herbs?” Nick mumbled, vaguely remembering something about them from earlier.

 

“They were in the soup,” Rosalee answered, gathering things so she and Monroe could leave.

 

Unaware of what he was doing, Nick smacked his lips together as he tried to taste the soup again. “Is that what made it taste so good?”

 

“No, that would be the taste of homecooking,” Monroe answered. “Remember what that tastes like?”

 

“What ‘r you talkin’ about? I had homecooking a lot when I was with Juliette,” Nick sleepily argued.

 

“Okay, as much as I’d love to listen to you two banter, we really need to let him sleep,” Rosalee interjected before things could really get going; which was good given Nick couldn’t really think much beyond his argument.

 

“Excuses, excuses,” Monroe joked, but Nick could hear his footsteps retreating nonetheless.

 

“Get some rest, Nick; we’ll check in on you in a couple of hours.”

 

And with that, Nick was left alone. It didn’t take long for the darkness in his room to lull him into a deep sleep and soon, Nick was aware of nothing more—not even the figure outside his window, keeping watch.

 

**oOo**

Sean sat in the tree outside Nick’s bedroom, keeping a close eye on the man whom he was destined to be mated to. Regnants don’t fall in love lightly, or at all really, so when one falls for a being, it generally means that that being is who they are meant to be with for the rest of the Regnant’s life. Unfortunately, a Regnant’s life span was longer than that of a human. It often meant that the Regnant was left, at one point in time or another, alone for a portion of its adulthood.

 

If he’d been asked, Sean wouldn’t be able to say why he was sitting outside the Grimm’s bedroom, stalking the man, as it were. Okay, so he _could_ say, but he would rather not. The truth of the matter was Sean was worried about Nick.

 

When he’d — discreetly — stopped by Saturday night to check on Nick, he’d noticed that the house was Juliette-less and that Nick wasn’t taking it so well. Every instinct in his body had screamed at him to knock on the front door and ask if Nick was okay or if he needed anything, but he knew he couldn’t; he’d made an agreement with the Grimm that he would wait for him to be ready and Sean was going to stick to it. He’d kept an eye on Nick, though. Watching all throughout Sunday in growing worry until the Blutbad had shown up. Knowing that he could be smelled, Sean chose then to vacate. He didn’t want his presence known, especially since the Blutbad would probably tell Nick that he was around.

 

He’d waited impatiently for the cover of dusk before he ventured another watch. And now, here he sat on a hefty tree limb, barely shivering in the cold that had descended upon Portland. He was glad to see that Nick was getting better. His only regret was that it couldn’t have been him sitting by the Grimm’s bedside instead of the Blutbad and the Fuchsbau..

 

Patiently, he watched as Nick fell back asleep. Then, as silently as he’d arrived, Sean took flight into the clear night sky. He had some energy to burn and he knew just how to do it.

 

**oOo**

 

It was dawn on Wednesday morning before Nick was coherent enough to remember what had transpired over the past week, and then he’d wished that he hadn’t. Juliette’s departure still stung as acutely as it had the day it happened and Nick’s mood wasn’t bound to improve anytime soon because of it. Without moving, he could tell that the scratch on his leg felt better, but it was buried beneath a bone-deep ache that was expected when one had been sick.

 

For a moment he thought about going back to sleep, but then his phone rang. He didn’t know if phones could sound insistent or not, but his currently did, leaving him no doubt about who was calling him.

 

He groaned as he reached out and grabbed it, letting it seep into his tone when he said, “Hello.”

 

“Nick? Man, you okay?” Hank’s worried voice greeted him.

 

“Uh, I think so?”

 

“What do you mean, you think so? You aren’t sure?” If Nick hadn’t been feeling crappy still, he would have laughed at the annoyed note in his partner and friend’s voice. He understood it; if the situations had been reversed, he would have been acting the same way and he knew it.

 

“Well, I’ve been sick, but I’m alive,” he answered, hoping that it would placate the annoyed man.

 

“At this point, that’s debatable. Do you even know what day it is?”

 

Try as he might, Nick couldn’t recall what day it was. So he guessed. “Uh… Monday?”

 

“Try Wednesday.” Hank’s tone had calmed some. Instead of the near panicked tone when he’d first answered, it was now more of a teasing annoyance. Nick could hear the smirk as he’d announced the day, but he could also hear the slight bit of worry as well.

 

“Oh.” Nick knew it wasn’t enough of a reply, but it was all he had to give. With his brain still fuzzy from being sick, he honestly couldn’t think of anything else. To say that it was annoying would be an understatement, but it was all Nick could think of to describe how he felt. Okay, so ‘annoying’ didn’t really cover it since he also felt sore and tired as well, but it worked.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Well, you kinda woke me up, Hank. It’s barely seven.”

 

“Yeah, and usually you would be up by now,” Hank argued, not bothered that he woke up a sick person.

 

“Yeah, the keyword there being ‘usually’. Since I’m sick, I’m not.” Nick groaned as a throbbing in his head began to make itself known via an especially painful burst.

 

“And how was I to know that you were sick, huh?” Hank returned, apparently ignoring Nick’s sound of pain. “For all I knew, you were dead.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not. Can I go back to sleep now?”

 

Hank scoffed at the question, letting the noise speak for itself. “And I suppose you want me to tell the Captain that you won’t be in?”

 

“Don’t you always?” Nick almost mentioned that the Captain already knew that he wouldn’t be in, almost. He thankfully had enough presence of mind to remember that in doing so, he’d have to divulge all the secrets he’d been keeping from his partner, and reveal a new one he’d just learned all in one blow. Since he figured he’d done enough damage for one year, he didn’t see the point in doing it again.

 

“Man, you’re just lucky I like you,” Hank replied. He hung up without waiting for anymore instructions— a fact for which Nick was grateful.

 

He debated putting the phone back on the table, but his arm felt too heavy for him to bother with it so he left it on the bed by his leg, figuring he’d put it back later. He was just about asleep when there was a gentle knock on his door.

 

“Nick?” Rosalee called through the wood, quiet in case he was still asleep. Carefully she opened the door and slipped inside, startling when she noticed that he was awake. “Sorry, I didn’t know if you were up or not,” she breathily apologized as she waited for her heart rate to slow down. In case he was apparently blind, she flashed the tray she’d been holding in front of her. “I brought you some breakfast. It’s not much since your stomach’s not ready for much solid food. But I think it’s time we got your strength back up, don’t you?”

 

Nick’s first thought was no, it wasn’t time to get up and get back to his life yet because Juliette was no longer in it. But even sick, he realized how ridiculous that sounded, so he took a moment to come up with something better.

 

“Sounds good,” was all he could think to answer, his mind once again going blank when he needed it to cooperate. Stiffly, he raised himself so that he was sitting up, leaning annoyingly heavily on the headboard behind him. He was pleasantly surprised when his calf didn’t grumble about being moved; apparently that salve that Bud had given him had worked, who knew?

 

“Good,” Rosalee answered cheerily. Despite the lameness of his answer, she seemed pleased with it anyways. Her smile wasn’t exactly bright, but it was as bright as Nick had ever seen since she’d arrived. He was glad that she and Monroe worked so well together; Monroe needed somebody that could get him out of the house willingly – other than Nick that is – as well as help him keep the inner wolf tamed. Of course, Nick was sure that Monroe was good for Rosalee too, he just didn’t know the young woman well enough to know how.

 

She placed the tray down over his lap, the dishes clinking all the while as she asked, “How are you feeling?”  
 

“Uh, better, I think. Things are a bit fuzzy still, but I definitely feel better than I did the last time I woke.”

 

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. Not that I mind helping you out, but I would like to get back to the spice shop soon.” She gave him a small wink to let him know that she was only partially kidding, thus preventing him from apologizing for something that hadn’t been his fault in the first place. She sat down in the chair next to the bed and then added, “Not that Monroe has exactly been the most patient of people either. I had to kick him out last night because he was getting on my nerves with all his pent up energy.”

 

“Haha, that sounds like Monroe,” Nick agreed with a breathy smile. When he actually focused on the food on the tray, his brows furrowed. “Uh, Rosalee, why am I eating soup at,” he looked over at the clock to confirm the time, “seven-thirty in the morning?”  


“Because, Monroe has eaten the rest of the food that was in the house, what little there was of it, and there are some herbs in the soup that will help keep the fever down and boost your immune system. The infection seems to be gone, but you’re still a little sick so I want to keep ahead on that and not let it get worse.”

 

She leveled her gaze at his as she finished speaking. It seemed as though she were trying to convey a message within her words which were meant specifically for him, but his mind was too groggy to decipher it so he simply offered an abashed smile and began to eat his soup.

 

The broth tasted like a medium rare prime rib in his mouth. The mixtures of beef, garlic, pepper, oregano, and basil were glorious and he savored every taste. Nick hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been until his stomach rolled in both unease and starvation as the liquid settled in it. Knowing that it wouldn’t do him any good to overload his stomach with too much food at once, Nick took his painfully sweet time to eat some more. He made sure he paused in between bites, long enough that he felt the rumbling settle but short enough so that he didn’t simply inhale the next sip.

 

“Isn’t soup supposed to have chicken and vegetables?” he asked when he noticed that there was nothing but broth in the bowl.

 

“If this were chicken broth, then yes, there would be chicken and vegetables in it,” was her vague reply. The way she was half smiling at him told him not to ask his next question, but part of the reason why Nick had become a detective was because he was curious and so he couldn’t heed her silent warning.

 

“Then what kind of broth is this?”

 

At this, she smiled and leaned forward so that her elbows rested on her knees. “Believe me, you don’t wanna know,” she answered, giving another wink.

 

“Okay,” Nick replied, putting another spoonful of the broth in his mouth. “I guess I’ll just eat in ignorance and enjoy it.”

 

“That would be a wise move,” she assured, leaning back again. “Now, what do you say to getting up and taking a shower?”

 

“I say, that sounds good.” Honestly Nick’s first thought was ‘Monroe might get jealous’, but he wasn’t sure of Rosalee’s type of humor. Sometimes she laughed at Monroe’s jokes and sometimes she didn’t. Nick never understood what the difference between them was, so he couldn’t figure out why she only laughed part of the time. And since she was currently his babysitter for the day, he thought it better to stay on her good side, so he went with the safer reply.

 

“Good, well, I’m gonna go downstairs and stop Monroe from blowing up my phone with texts while you eat. Call me when you’re ready to get moving; you’re still a little weak so you might need some help.”

 

“Sounds good,” Nick replied, watching as she got up and walked over to the door. “And Rosalee?”

 

“Yeah?” she turned around and smiled at him. He could tell she was eager to get back downstairs so he made what he had to say quick, not wanting to keep her from getting some alone time.

 

“Thank you, you know, for all you’ve done for me. I really appreciate it.”

 

“No problem.” She smiled then started to leave again, hesitating only slightly before walking out the odor and downstairs.

 

Although he couldn’t read minds, Nick was pretty sure that she’d been debating talking to him about Juliette. He was thankful that she hadn’t tried because he just wasn’t ready for that conversation yet, even if she was the only woman friend he had.

 

Once he heard Rosalee get on the phone to Monroe, Nick felt himself relax and the faux smile on his face fade. He hated the feeling of dishonesty whenever a smile came onto his face, but somehow he felt he owed his friends to put it there. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them enough to show how he truly felt – God knows he did that with Monroe before this whole getting-sick-mess began – he just wasn’t altogether sure exactly _how_ he felt about the whole situation yet.

 

On one hand, he felt the pain he felt at Juliette’s leaving warranted; it was his punishment for not listening to wise advice when he’d received it, and not just from Aunt Marie, but from Monroe as well.

 

However, he also felt betrayed and hurt by Juliette’s lack of willingness to believe him; she’d even gone so far as to accuse him of making the whole thing up and that had hurt the most. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive her for that, though he would certainly try. After all, it wasn’t entirely her fault; she’d just been trying to make sense of something that was unreasonable and would be considered fiction in any other universe.

 

Most of all, he felt stuck, like his feet were trapped in a pit of molasses that had gone thick in cooler temperature. He knew he should move on, but he couldn’t figure out how. Hell, a part of him didn’t want to move on because he hoped that she would eventually come to her senses and come back. He hated that hopeful side; he wanted to murder it because he knew it would hold him back, possibly for the rest of his life.

 

But being hopeful was just how Nick was; even after his parents had died. Sure, he’d been devastated that they were gone, but somewhere deep inside there was a nagging little voice that told him he would be alright and that he would get past this. For the most part, that voice had been right; he’d been able to mostly put the death of his parents behind him—the fact that it had appeared to be an accident had helped.

 

This time there was no inner voice encouraging him to let go, that things would be okay. This time all that voice was doing was screaming at Juliette to come back and believe because it needed her to, and that was the most discouraging thing of all. The idea that he felt like he couldn’t live without Juliette by his side or in his life was the nail in the coffin for him; it was the driving force behind his desperate need to get back to who he truly was and what his life was now like—being a Grimm and defending, guarding and protecting the weaker Wesen of Portland.

 

Nick took a shuddering breath, feeling as though he hadn’t breathed for five minutes. Tears now dripped silently down his cheeks, falling into a puddle in the mystery broth in the bowl in his lap. His chest hurt; it felt like there was an iron hand around his lungs, preventing them from expanding and the pain that pulsed through his sternum struck like a targeted arrow in his heart.

 

God, how he hated this! He wanted to throw the tray, bowl, utensils and all across the room and watch satisfactorily as everything dented the wall and the bowl broke into small, fragmented pieces because that’s exactly what he felt like was happening to his heart and he knew he was powerless to stop it.

 

But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. For one, Rosalee was still downstairs and not only would she hear the commotion, but she would probably also feel like she had to clean it up then scold him for making the mess in the first place. And for another, the reaction seemed like too much drama. In general, Nick tried to stay away from dram—either causing it or getting in the middle of it. It wasn’t something his life needed and it definitely wasn’t something he wanted; no man does. So, instead he settled for moving the tray off his lap and onto the empty part of the bed to his right, clearing his throat in an effort to dry his tears all the while.

 

Screw what Rosalee said or instructed—he was going to get out of this bed and _try_ to get back to life. Granted he was sick right now, but he hoped to be feeling better to go into work within the next day or so, so he didn’t let that stop him.

 

Throwing the blankets to the side—because somehow he’d been tucked in while he’d been out with the fever—Nick cautiously swung his legs over the side of his bed, letting his feet touch the cold floor for the first time in days. When he thought he was ready, he slowly began to stand.

 

His legs were shaky at best, but they held him so he considered a win for him. However standing in one spot while partially leaning against the bedside table was one thing, walking turned out to be another. His body was weak enough that his limbs shook with the effort of holding him upright and the energy it required just to remain standing was enough to deplete what little he had gained while he’d been eating. The pain from the wound on his calf was minimal; the stretching of the muscle caused the most discomfort. But it soon became obvious that he wasn’t going to be walking on his own during this attempt so he sat back down with a heavy thud.

 

 _Well, that was disappointing,_ he chided himself as he waited for the minute shaking to stop and some energy to return. _Let’s try that again._

This time, the attempt was partially successful. He managed to make it to the armchair in the corner of the room, directly across from his bed, before he felt like he had to collapse.

 

With another puffing breath, Nick lifted his weak and tired body off the chair and slowly and unsteadily began making his way to the bathroom. His hand had just begun to cling to the dresser against the wall that divided the bathroom from the bedroom when Monroe’s voice startled him, “Shouldn’t you be waiting for help before you do that?”

 

Since he didn’t have very much energy to begin with, Nick didn’t jump at the sound of his friend’s voice, but he felt his heart give a stutter of surprise. “Geez, Monroe! You know, it’s customary to let someone know when you’re standing there.”

 

“I just did,” the Blutbad answered unapologetically. “Besides, I would have thought you would have heard the front door seeing as how I knocked on it and everything.”

 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t.”

 

“Yeah, I know that now. Geez, what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

 

Nick let out a hollow laugh at his friend’s question. After noticing that his entire body was beginning to shake like a dead leaf in an autumn wind, he slowly started walking into the bathroom, answering, “Really?” before he closed the door behind him.

 

“Okay, I know, stupid question, but come on man, I’m tryin’ here,” Monroe’s voice called through the door. Since Nick found it weird to be talking while he was in there, he didn’t answer, which left the Blutbad free to chatter on his own. “I know that Juliette leaving was a blow, but you can’t be Mr. Volatile forever. You gotta move on. I’m sure she’s moving on as well. Okay, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean, right? You can’t just sit around and let life pass you by; you gotta, take it by the throat-“

 

“-And strangle it?” Nick added, opening the door and re-entering the bedroom. The half-smile on his face had nothing to do with humor; he truly wished he could take fate by the throat and squeeze until she died.

 

Monroe, however, didn’t think the comment was funny. He glared at Nick, obviously perturbed because his attempt at man-to-man-emotional talk wasn’t going so well. “No. Well, my Nana used to say ‘rip its throat out’, but that never made sense to me. No, I was gonna say, you just gotta take life by the throat and run with it, but I guess that doesn’t really make sense either, huh?”

 

“Nope!” Nick replied, collapsing once again into the armchair, too tired to make it to the bed. The mere fact that he’d been able to make it from the bathroom to the armchair without having to pause was a miracle in and of itself, he thought, and he was proud that he’d made it. However, he wasn’t going to test his luck and attempt to make it to the bed, even if all he wanted to do was sleep.

 

“Yeah, well, give me a break, I’m trying.”

 

Nick chuckled, light and gentle. “I know you are, and I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary, really. I’ll be fine.”

 

Monroe watched him with skeptical eyes then he huffed out a scoff. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“What, you don’t think I will be?” Nick challenged, his eyebrows raising in disbelief.

 

“No, because you won’t be unless you talk about this with your friends; a.k.a. me.” When Nick made a face, he continued, “Believe me man, I know, I’ve been there. Remember, Angelina?”

 

“Oh, you mean the female Blutbad who didn’t care who it was that she killed as long as she got to spill blood? No, I don’t remember her at all.”

 

“Okay, one – sarcasm does _not_ become you; and two – she cared about whom she killed, just not what she killed.”

 

“Oh, so Bauershwein aren’t people?”

 

“Honestly? To most Blutbad – no. Most of us just see them as another potential meal, and more than likely a fat one at that. But that’s beside the point. My point is, I was so in love with her that I allowed one of my best friends to be killed and the reason I was still in love with her was because I didn’t try to move on; I didn’t talk to my friends like I’d needed to.”

 

“Hap’s death wasn’t your fault,” Nick reminded, fully believing it. “If you’d been there, he probably would have just killed you too.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Yeah, I kinda do. Orson was out for revenge; if you had gotten in the way of him getting that, he would have pulled the trigger without blinking an eye.”

 

“But still, you’re missing the point,” Monroe insisted in obvious hopes to chase away the shadows of guilt from his eyes.

 

“No, Monroe, I got the point, I’m just,” Nick sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to calm the headache that had slowly gotten more impressive with this conversation. “I’m just, not ready to talk about this yet, okay? I’m sick, and I’m tired, and, right now, I just want to go to sleep.”

 

“Okay, sure, but don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily. Got it?”

 

“What are you, my mother now?”

 

“Well someone has to be since you obviously aren’t too keen on taking care of yourself,” Monroe retorted, moving off the bed and waiting for Nick to climb back in.

 

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” Nick groused, gratefully setting his head back onto the pillow.

 

“Yeah, that’s been proven obvious by your three-day fever that has left you incoherent at best.” As though acting like the mother he claimed to be pretending to be, Monroe swiftly tucked the blankets back around Nick. “Now, get some rest. I’ll wake you up for some lunch in a couple of hours then while you get clean, I’ll change the sheets; because you and they both smell and could use the cleaning.”

 

“That’s really not necessary,” Nick drowsily argued.

 

“Yeah, you don’t smell you like I do.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Monroe rolled his eyes as he headed for the door. “Nothing, just go to sleep.” He closed the door behind him without another word.

 

Nick’s eyes were closed before Monroe had even finished speaking, and it didn’t take long for the rest of him to shut down so he could get the rest his body needed. He hoped he felt better when he woke up because this whole being-a-sick-invalid thing was getting annoying.

 

**TBC**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Part VII**

The landscape rolled by with increasing speed as he flew. Even with that knowledge, however, he still peered down, trying to locate where he was by simple markers. As expected, it didn’t work so he gave up and enjoyed the flight. The plane wasn’t crowded like it sometimes could be - a fact for which he was thankful. Pierre despised overpopulated areas, planes and cities included; it was why he normally chose to take midnight flights and live in small towns. However, as of late, his ambitions had begun to grow, and he’d found just the person to help further them. Now all he had to do was remove the man who stood in his way.

 

He pulled a picture of an old newspaper clipping out of his briefcase, sneering at the black and white ink. Removing him shouldn’t be too hard; Pierre already knew how he would do that. It was subduing those that were loyal to him that would be the hard part. Thankfully, the person who backed Pierre had already thought of that and was making arrangements before he’d even left.

 

 _Be careful Captain Renard,_ he thought as he stared at the man’s face from when he was at a press conference. _You may have won the last time we met, but things have changed and this time, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that you won’t see coming._

****

**oOo**

Sean landed in the forest, silent as a wraith. He put his nose into the air, sniffing it for sign of his prey while remaining as still as the trees. His eyes glowed bright orange when he caught the scent. Perfect. It was a single Lowen; unusual to be sure, but not unheard of. It appeared the lion was camping out in the woods, either hiding from someone or waiting for someone, Sean couldn’t tell. Sean noted that it wasn’t very bright when he pin-pointed the scent to be coming from an open plain within the woods rather than the caves which were far better at hiding someone.

 

With a rumble that was pure exhilaration, Sean took off towards the scent, quietly moving through the forest, unnoticed. Normally he wasn’t this animalistic in nature; Sean preferred to keep his more feral side hidden. But with the tension between Nick and himself, his inability to check on the man without appearing like a stalker, and the realization that Nick was to be his future mate, Sean needed a release and this was it.

 

He pounced before the Lowen even knew he was there, using his ability to blend into the scenery to keep himself hidden from its excellent eyesight. Sean actually felt a little low, attacking without giving the prey a chance to fight back, but his worries were quickly cast aside as the Regnant sunk its teeth into the Lowen’s neck.

 

For a moment, he imagined it was Nick he was biting, but then the scent of the Lowen overwhelmed his senses and the dream was gone. The Regnant took out its frustrations on the dead Lowen, tearing it apart so that it couldn’t be identified by anyone that had known it.

 

He let out a roar that was loud enough to echo through the far reaches of Portland, hoping that Nick could hear it for it was meant for him. He then repeated it a couple more times before desisting. Once he was finished, he began to dispose of the body so that it would never be found. He thought it was rather convenient that the Lowen had left the fire burning for him so he could use it to devour the lion’s remains. Only once the smoke was a mile high and the air was thick with the stench of burning flesh did he leave the scene, the Regnant within rumbling happily as it went back into its cage.

 

**oOo**

Nick snapped awake, feeling as though his soul had been dragged out of a pool of sleep by an unwanted savior. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about, but he had the feeling it had been real.

 

A roar, like that of a giant lion, rumbled through the air outside his window, catching his attention and bring him to his feet and then the window faster than he had thought possible. He opened the window, letting the chilly October air rush past him as though the breeze itself simply wanted to get warm. When the roar came a third time, because he knew that was had woken him up in the first place, he stuck his head out the window and listened to it.

 

Beneath the ferocious gurgle, he heard things that he wondered if anyone else could hear. Given that was how his life seemed to work, he guessed they couldn’t; that somehow the message within it was meant solely for him and so no other could decipher it. The sound felt possessive to Nick, almost like an animalistic claim that had been laid. But he also heard loneliness, desire, and love. The loneliness connected with him on a level he hadn’t expected; then the love enveloped him, warming him and acting as an adhesive to hold his heart together.

 

Another breeze swept past, this time chilling him to the bone. Nick shivered, the act reminding him that he shouldn’t be sticking his head out the window. And just like that, the roaring stopped and he felt just as cold, alone, and sick as he had before it had started.

 

“I’m assuming you heard that,” Monroe’s voice said from the doorway behind him.

 

“Couldn’t everybody,” Nick answered, doing his best to hide the fact that Monroe had surprised him. Slowly, he turned around, feeling every joint and every muscle as he moved.

 

 _Okay, that needs to stop,_ he silently grumbled. _The whole, being-sick-and-feeling-like-it thing is just annoying now._

“Some more than most,” Monroe said, the double meaning in his words clear. The problem was, Nick couldn’t tell if he was referring to the fact that he could hear it better than most people because of his Blutbad heritage or if Nick heard it best because it was seemingly meant for him. Give the look Monroe was giving him, Nick would guess that it was both.

 

“Do you know what it was that made it?” Nick ventured curiously.

 

“Do I look like I know every animal in Portland?”

 

Nick raised his eyebrows in an ‘are you kidding’ kind of expression and smiled. He thought about sitting down so that he didn’t wear himself out, but he quickly wiped the idea away; he’d been off his feet for days, it was time to be standing and moving around.

 

“Alright, fine, yes, I know who it was, but if you don’t know, I’m not gonna be the one to tell you because he would kill me. Okay, not literally, well, maybe literally, I don’t know; either way, I’m not going to cross him.”

 

“Let me guess, Captain Renard,” Nick dryly suggested, recognizing Monroe’s awe and desire to stay out of everything.

 

“Hey, I’m not saying a word,” Monroe reminded him, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Anyways, how are you feeling?”

 

“Better,” Nick answered, nodding his head to support his statement as he started to walk away from the window where’d he been standing since Monroe had walked in. Now it was Monroe’s turn to give him the ‘are you kidding’ expression, making Nick stop. “What, don’t I look it?”

 

“No. You look like death barely heated up.”

 

“Well, thanks, I feel so flattered.”

 

“Yeah, well, whatever. Rosalee wants to know if you want to come down for dinner.”

 

“Dinner? What happened to lunch, I thought you were going to wake me up around noon?”

 

“Hey, I tried,” Monroe defended, once again holding up his hands in a peace gesture, “you threatened to shoot me.”

 

“I did not,” Nick scoffed, waving away the accusation with the effort of swatting a fly. He paused for a moment, considering his mood as of late and decided to change his statement, “At least, I don’t remember doing that.”

 

“That’s what I figured,” Monroe said, brushing off the whole thing with a shrug. “Anyways, do you want to come down or not?”

 

“Yeah,” Nick replied a bit more enthusiastically than he meant. He sighed, letting the breath calm him down. “Let me take a shower and then, I’ll be down.”

 

Monroe didn’t reply. Instead he turned around and walked out, leaving Nick to take his shower in peace.

 

**oOo**

The hot water felt glorious as it splashed, splattered, and sprayed against Nick’s skin. He stood with his back to the spray as he began pouring shampoo into the palm of his hand. The benefit of having short hair was that it didn’t require a lot of maintenance; a teensy bit of shampoo, a bit of rinsing, drying and then a comb-through and he was done. There were sometimes when he felt like being fussy about it, but they were rare. He washed his face and his body with the same soap then he stood under the stream for another five minutes before he finally shut it off. If he could have, he’d have stayed under longer, but since he could feel his muscles begin to tire, he didn’t push it.

 

Opening the door to the bedroom so that the steam from the bathroom could escape, Nick inhaled deeply. The smell of fresh bread wafted through his nose, quickly followed by smell of chicken; he assumed it was chicken noodle soup that was being made since he didn’t think Rosalee would let him eat anything more substantive at the moment, but for a minute he imagined a rotisserie chicken, a baked potato, and maybe even a salad waiting for him.

 

His mouth watered as his imagination wandered. Off the top of his head, he could come up with five meals that sounded more delicious than soup, but he acknowledged that his stomach wasn’t ready to handle anything too heavy yet and so he clamped down on his cravings.

 

After quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, Nick made his way downstairs. Much to his surprise he found the downstairs clean, in order, and…homey. All of the “gifts” from the Eisbibers had either been put away in the kitchen or placed somewhere out of the way so that it looked like they belonged there. He paused for a moment to allow the scene to set in and then he made his way into the kitchen where he heard Rosalee bustling about.

 

“Hey!” she greeted happily yet distractedly. Her movements never ceased as she moved through his kitchen as though she’d been the one to set everything up rather than Juliette. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Hey, uh, better, I guess. What’s going on?”

 

Food was strewn about the kitchen counters. It was messy and yet it wasn’t since all of it was packed in the form of meals in plastic to-go containers. Nick stared at it all in amazement with just a touch of bewilderment. Did she think he couldn’t feed himself?

 

“Just putting the rest of this food into the freezer before I begin setting the table,” she absently answered while pouring a bit of what looked like goulash into a large, plastic bowl.

 

“I see that,” he said, still staring at the counters. “The question is, why are you putting large amounts of food into plastic containers?”

 

“Monroe was worried that with Juliette gone, you wouldn’t feed yourself properly so he made enough food to last you through a war or two.”

 

“Uh-huh, and, why are you the one putting it away?”

 

“Because he’s out back grilling dinner for _us_.”

 

The way she said ‘us’ made Nick think that she meant only Monroe and herself, but he still rose his eyebrows in a way that suggested he was asking if the meal was for all of them rather than just the two that hadn’t been sick. His smile grew when she purposely ignored him, apparently guessing that what he was going to ask.

 

“Great,” Nick said when the kitchen remained in silence and Rosalee continue to ignore him, “well, I’ll just go and see if he needs some help.”

 

When Rosalee remained silent, he went to the back hall, grabbed his coat and went outside to the porch. The smell of searing meat floated through the air like a delicate feather, settling on the autumn air like a comforting presence. Monroe stood in front of the grill, letting the smoke from the fire waft over him before it dissipated like a fine mist.

 

“Hey! Should you be out here?” the Blutbad greeted and asked in one. Using the pair of tongs he had in his hand, he flipped the meat over and then hung them back on the grill’s side.

 

“Hey,” Nick greeted back, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets to keep them warm. “I guess so. She didn’t stop me from coming.”

 

Monroe raised an eyebrow out at him. “That doesn’t mean you should be out here. That just means that she was too busy to notice.”

 

“Tomato, tomahto,” Nick answered, hovering by the warm grill. “What made you decide to grill? I thought you were a vegan.”

 

“I am,” Monroe assured, turning his attention from Nick down to the meat to make sure it wasn’t burning and then focusing back on Nick. “This is vegan steak; there’s no actual meat in it.”

 

“Doesn’t that kinda defeat the purpose of it?” Nick teased with a smile. In all honesty, he admired the Blutbad for his choice of lifestyle. While Nick didn’t mind eating vegan or vegetarian every once in a while, he knew he couldn’t do it every day – he craved red meat far too often.

 

Just then, the back door opened and Rosalee’s head poked out. “Hey, Nick, could you do me a favor? Could you grab the plates for me? They’re a bit too high up for me to reach.”

 

Monroe and Nick shared a look that said that neither of them was fooled before Nick gave the Fuchsbau a smile and answered, “Yeah. It’s the least I could do.”

 

She smiled at him and then went back inside, knowing that he would follow her. He shared another look with Monroe before he went back into the house, shivering as the heat from it sunk into his bones, alerting him to just how cold he’d actually been.

 

“So, why are the plates so high up again?” Nick asked as he grabbed said plates from an upper shelf in the cabinet.

 

“It seems as if your kitchen wasn’t very organized, so Monroe took it upon himself to correct that while you were ill,” Rosalee answered, taking the plates from Nick and putting them on the dining table. Though he’d handed her three, she’d only put two on the table, giving him the third one back with a, “Nice try.”

 

“I’m not trying anything,” Nick answered with a smile that belied his innocence. “Besides,” he added when she gave him an eyebrow raise of doubt, “wouldn’t it be better to have a plate under the bowl of soup so that I can put my bread on it? I did smell fresh bread a couple of days ago, right?”

 

“Yes, you did,” she answered in response to his second question. She didn’t even bother answering his first, however, as she simply walked back into the dining room and placed the plate under his bowl. “Satisfied?” she asked when she came back in to grab silverware and napkins.

 

“Thrilled,” Nick replied with a smile. Since he didn’t actually feel that way, he chose to walk into the living room to take a breather for a few seconds. He’d just sat down when his phone, which, out of habit, was attached to his belt, rang. “Burkhardt,” he answered without blinking.

 

“Just thought I’d let you know that the Captain has given you the rest of the week off,” Hank supplied without bothering to say hello.

 

“Oh,” Nick answered, not really able to think of something else. “Thanks.”

 

“Uh-huh; don’t think I’m going to play your messenger boy every time you don’t feel like callin’ in sick, though.”

 

Nick chuckled, knowing that Hank would in fact play messenger whenever he asked, just like Nick would always do it if it was Hank that was sick or injured.

 

“Got it,” he assured. “See you on Monday.”

 

“Uh-huh,” was all he got in reply before the line cut off.

 

“Nick?” Rosalee said as she poked her head into the living room. “Dinner’s ready.”

 

“Okay, thanks,” he answered, waiting until she walked away before letting out a heavy sigh. “Here we go,” he said to himself before he hoisted his butt off the couch and into the dining room.

 

**oOo**

The dinner passed pleasantly and swiftly. What little chatter there was mingled perfectly with the food as they ate, creating a comfortable atmosphere despite the events of the past week. Once it had finished, Nick helped to clear off the table and do the dishes while Rosalee put the spare food away.

 

“You guys don’t have to stick around anymore, you know,” Nick said as he bent down to load the plates into the dishwasher.

 

“I don’t know,” Monroe answered from his spot against the counter, bottle of beer in his hand. “The last time I left you alone, you managed to make yourself very sick. Who knows what could happen if you’re left to your own devices.”

 

“Funnily enough, I wasn’t aware that you were a babysitter as well as a clock maker,” Nick returned, adding the cups and silverware as he did so.

 

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been a babysitter from the moment you attacked me in my own home,” Monroe countered without missing a beat.

 

“Really?” Nick asked, curious by what he meant.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been babysitting you since you first showed up at my door, lookin’ for answers.” He took another gulp of beer and then gave Nick a smile.

 

Nick opened his mouth to argue, but since he knew that Monroe was right, he shut it again and shoved the pots and pans into the dishwasher, added the detergent and then forcefully closed the door. The dishwasher activated and the gentle humming of the water being splished and splashed soon became the only sound in the kitchen.

 

“Anyways,” Nick emphasized as the small group continued to simply stare at one another. “Like I was saying, I’m feeling much better now, so you guys can go ahead and go home tonight.”

 

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Rosalee said before Monroe had a chance to respond. “And I agree. You’re definitely doing much better.”

 

The two looked over at Monroe, impatiently waiting for the Blutbad to agree with broad, encouraging smiles on their faces. At long last he rolled his eyes and gulped down the rest of his beer. “Oh, all right,” he gave in, placing the bottle into the trash. “But if you need anything, call. Don’t wait until your desperate.”

 

“Monroe, I’ll be fine,” Nick reassured, sounding a bit more annoyed than he would have liked. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand or appreciate the other man’s protective nature because he really did. Over the past year, the two had become good friends and each felt responsible for the other’s health, whether they were or not. It was just that, right now, he longed to be left alone so that he could finally let the mask fall and slowly begin to adapt to life without Juliette.

 

They walked to the entryway in some silent understanding that the night was over. Despite the gloom he felt about Juliette leaving, Nick also felt blessed that he had friends that he knew he could count on and that understood him on a deeper level than she ever did.

 

“But thanks,” he added to make sure that Monroe didn’t feel like his and Rosalee’s help wasn’t appreciated.

 

Both Wesen nodded their answer then Rosalee leaned in to give him a hug. Having been caught off guard, Nick simply stood there for a few seconds while she hugged him. Then as things slowly began to process, he wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug and feeling, somehow, privileged to be receiving such a show of affection.

 

“Thanks for your help,” he told her as she backed away and stood next to Monroe. “Both of you.”

 

“You’re welcome, Nick,” Rosalee answered for the both of them. Apparently taking that as her cue, the fuchsbau opened the door and walked out, stopping just outside to wait for Monroe to join.

 

The two men shook hands with Nick adding a small smile of both thanks and apology. He felt bad for essentially kicking the two out like he had, but he also felt bad about their having to watch over him for the past seventy-two hours. Monroe smiled back, silently assuring Nick that he had nothing to apologize for, and then he too walked out, closing the door behind him.

 

Once he was sure that they’d driven away, Nick collapsed against the front door, simply allowing the events of the past week collapse around him. Next week was going to be better. It had to be.

 

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**Part VIII**

“It’s great to see you back among the land of the living,” Hank greeted Nick as he walked – limping slightly thanks to the cut on his calf – into the station.

 

Nick smiled at his greeting, recognizing the ‘welcome back’ for what it was. “I wasn’t aware I’d ever left,” he returned, doing his best to sound confused as he sat down at his desk and began to go through the emails he’d received while he’d been gone.

 

Hank offered a smile but he dropped the topic. His desk phone rang, leaving Nick to turn his attention to his cell phone which had just buzzed in his pocket. He smiled when he read the concerned lecture he was getting via text from Monroe.

 

The blutbad hadn’t been all too confident in Nick’s coming back to work but Rosalee had assured them both that – sans a small limp – Nick was perfectly fine and could go back to work today. Nick suspected that part of her decision to get him back to work was to also get him out of the house which had definitely taken on a gloomy feeling since Juliette and Nick’s breakup. Either way, Nick wasn’t going to complain. It actually felt good to be doing something other than staring at the walls of his house and thinking of Juliette and what he’d just lost.

 

The hairs on the back of Nick’s neck prickled and Nick found himself suppressing a shiver.

 

Whipping around, he looked to see what it was that was making him feel like he was being watched by unfriendly eyes. It turned out that he _was_ being watched, but the look in the Captain’s eyes could have been described as anything other than unfriendly. There was a slight gleam in the hazel eyes that made Nick think that his eyes were deceiving him; after all, no one’s eyes can change color like that, can they? The expression, however, was not one that Nick could decipher in the few seconds he’d taken to look at the Captain. Still, it left him wondering.

 

By the time he’d turned back to face Hank, his partner was finishing his phone call.

 

“We’ll be right there,” he said as he hung up the phone.

 

“We got a case?” Nick asked, surprised by how much he was looking forward to having a murder to solve. He stood, putting his phone back into his pocket and grabbing his gun from his desk drawer, locking it securely into its holster. He wasn’t sure he should be going out on a case – and he knew that Monroe would definitely agree with that – but since it didn’t seem that his partner had noticed the fact that he was limping, Nick wasn’t going to mention it. After all, there wasn’t much pain anymore and the muscle wasn’t going to get stronger by Nick sitting around and taking it easy.

 

Hank nodded. “Yeah. Parking lot of some law firm in downtown.”

 

With Hank in the lead, they both walked out of the precinct and down to the parking garage where the Dodge was waiting to take them to the crime scene.

 

**oOo**

Sean watched Nick’s head turn to look at him. The grimm only looked at him for a few seconds but it was long enough to make the beast within him crave having the man next to him, under him, submitting to him – and in more ways than one. Having a grimm under one’s control would strengthen his position as a royal and a protector. As it was best to have the grimm working for them by their own will, that’s what Sean was hoping would happen; however, it wasn’t a must. Still, Nick was not the type of man to be manipulated – at least not easily – and now that Nick was more aware of Sean’s position within the wesen community – well, more so than being completely oblivious – the regnant was willing to let the man decide if he wanted to be on Sean’s side of his own volition first.

 

It took longer than he liked to put the regnant back in its cage within his soul. The animal wanted to spring forth and take the grimm for its own, to hell with the man’s desires! It wanted him; it needed him. And it wasn’t used to being told no.

 

Still, Sean hadn’t gotten as far as he had by giving in to his animalistic instincts and desires. He forced the regnant back into its prison, slamming the door shut with a resounding bang that echoed throughout his head.

 

His desk overflowed with files that needed to be reviewed before they could be submitted, cases that needed to be passed on and solved, messages from the press about one murder or another, and his email kept receiving new messages every few minutes but – annoyingly enough – he couldn’t summon the concentration to focus on any of it. His mind kept wandering over to Nick and wondering when the man would finally come to him to talk. Not that he couldn’t be patient – regnants were very patient creatures when it served their purposes – but Sean had only so much patience before it was completely depleted.

 

Just as he closed his laptop, intending to go to the gym to burn off his energy, Sean’s phone rang. The caller ID identified the incoming call as a _Private Number_ and Sean felt his guard flare to life immediately.

 

“Hello.”

 

“ _Il a disapru.”_

That was all the voice said before disconnecting the line but it was enough for the hair on the back of Sean’s neck to rise just a little bit. He instantly knew who the voice had been referring to.

 

Long before he’d left his home in Austria to come to America – moving in on Portland about twenty years later – Sean had established a connection within his family home. For all intents and purposes – to the members of his family particularly – the man was a servant. Technically they called him an employee but they treated him no better than a servant from the old days.

 

During Sean’s time at the castle, Andre had been a good friend; loyal, careful when needed, and kind when others were not. Sean and his family weren’t warring, but they had never really been close  - except perhaps he and his sister, but that was rarity – and so fights had often broke out among the siblings, leading to few injuries, but many long-standing feuds.

 

It was during the times of injury that Andre had shown whom he stood with. As Sean’s parents weren’t often in the castle, even when the kids were growing up, it had been Andre who had cared for Sean when he became injured. Most of the time the regnant brushed the wounds off, but there had been times when it hadn’t been possible and since Sean’s brothers had not only caused the injuries, but had sustained wounds themselves, it had been left up to Andre to care for the younger prince.

 

Sean’s sister, Justine, had often spent her time bouncing between the boys yet staying out of the way when they fought. Female regnants were just as powerful as the males, sometimes even stronger, but they were also more patient, more placid, than males. They were less animalistic in their hunt for their prey – be it food, a toy, or a mate. Instead, they tended to behave like muvais dentes in their hunts; only they were about 10 times smarter than the assassins. So when her brothers fought like wolves over a kill, Justine stood aside and watched, understanding their reasons but not necessarily agreeing with any of it. She’d left Austria about ten years before Sean had, fleeing to Argentina, much preferring the sun, to find her own protectorate to run.

 

When he’d left, Sean and Andre had decided that Andre would stay in Austria and stay close to Sean’s brother, Pierre. Somehow, Andre had not only grown close to Sean, but he’d also formed a bond with the other members of the family.

 

Aldric was the oldest. He and Sean were as close as two brothers in his family could be – meaning they didn’t necessarily get along but they weren’t at constant war with each other either. He’d found a mate long ago when he’d moved on to run a large part of Moscow. The neighboring protectorate was run by a woman named Madena. She was strong and somewhat cold, but she and Aldric worked well together. After pulling off a coup to take over the third portion of the Moscow protectorate, the pair mated then became wed. They now have four girls – two boys and twin girls. The last Sean had heard, things were going well but as that had been a quarter of a century ago, he had no idea if that was still true.

 

Emeric was the second-born and he had been set up to take over once father had died. It had been a position that he had happily accepted, however Pierre had seen to it that that had never happened. Shortly before he was to come into manhood, Emeric had been involved in a car bombing. It had been written off as an enemy of their father’s exacting revenge but the family knew that it had been a lie. Only the siblings knew that it had been Pierre’s doing.

 

Justine had mourned Emeric’s death the most. It made sense she was his twin. They had shared a bond that only twins of their familial line could boast. It had been deep, and intimate. She’d felt his death as though it had been her own and she had been inconsolable when she felt his life slip out of her mind. Her rage had been matched by none when she’d been told – by Andre – that it had been one of her brothers that had killed him. Pierre had escaped her wrath with his life, but only barely and it had only been through the intervention of their father and Aldric; Sean and his mother had stood by, believing that Pierre’s death would have settled the matter quite nicely.

 

Pierre was the youngest save Sean. He was the coldest of them all, except perhaps their father who got along quite well with his second youngest son. Before he made a move, Pierre made sure to have several back-up plans in place as well as escape routes to make sure that, should something go awry, nothing could be pointed at him. None in the family trusted each other much, but Sean’s distrust of Pierre grew the longer he lived and it was Pierre that Andre had been keeping an eye on.

 

_He has disappeared._

Three words. That was all it took to get Sean’s guard up. Because if Andre had lost track of Pierre – something that had yet to happen in the fifty years or so that the man had been serving his brother – then it meant that things were about to get worse for Sean or his siblings. And since Sean had spent most of his life going after Pierre the most, Sean could bet that it was him that was in danger.

 

Sadly, this was nothing new to Sean and therefore it didn’t worry him. No, what worried him was that somehow Pierre had found out about Nick and so if he has gone to ground, it didn’t take much imagination as to figure out why.

 

Pierre knew that Sean had a grimm in his realm, and he knew that Sean was close to gaining that grimm’s trust. And Pierre wanted the grimm for himself.

 

**oOo**

Hank parked the car just outside of the border set up by the uniforms on site. It seemed the easiest place to be in case they needed to leave in a hurry.

 

There was already a crowd forming around the crime scene; a mixture of press and curious on-lookers who had happened to be going into work but wanted to know what was going on now that they couldn’t. Uniforms were doing their best to hold everyone at bay, but the press didn’t become the press by being pushovers and so they were pushing back. How they found out about the murder was beyond Hank but he was curious as to why they were interested in it. That curiosity faded as soon as he saw the crime scene.

 

Blood was everywhere. That was the first thing that he noticed and his stomach began to churn a bit. Being a homicide detective, Hank wasn’t prone to bouts of squeamishness but this, this was different. It wasn’t just a little bit of blood from a gunshot wound; it wasn’t just a badly abused body. This poor guy had been brutally and viciously murdered. Most of the blood surrounded the cavity of the body, which was the biggest piece of the man that could be seen. His arms and legs had been cut off and God only knew where they were or if they were even intact. Hank’s stomach churned again when he noticed exactly how much blood had leaked from each place where the limb should have been – the victim had been alive when the extremities had been taken.  The head had also been severed and Hank had no idea where it was but going from the lack of blood around the neck wound, it had been done after the poor man’s heart had already stopped beating.

 

Behind him, Hank heard Nick’s breath hitch and he turned his head to find his partner staring at the same sight he was. There was a detachedness in Nick’s blue eyes that Hank rarely saw. It was as if the scene didn’t even register with his partner at all. But then what was he staring at?

 

Hank followed Nick’s line of sight and had to breathe deeply to keep from actually throwing up on-scene as he returned his attention to the murder victim. His eyes refocused on the blood that had yet to finish drying and it was then that he noticed that the spray from the wounds wasn’t random. The killer had actually taken the time to _draw_ in the blood. That was just sick! The words, Hank couldn’t make out as they were in a different language and the symbols, simplistic though they were, made no sense to him whatsoever. So why was Nick staring at them as though he’d seen a ghost?

 

“Oh good, you made it,” Wu greeted the pair as they ducked under the yellow tape and walked closer to the body. “I was going to call in Broden and Garrison for this but then I saw the gore and thought, ‘why not surprise Hank and Nick? I still owe them a birthday present.’”

 

Hank glared at the sergeant, not really appreciating his sarcasm at the moment. Careful though he and Nick were being not to step in any evidence, it was hard and Hank eventually ended up stepping in a bit of blood that had been spread around the victim in a circle. He scowled up at Wu, “You couldn’t have warned us to change shoes?”

 

The sergeant smiled his little half smile and answered, “Now what would have been the fun of that?” He didn’t give either of them time to reply before he began explaining the scene. “A coworker found the vic just before seven a.m.. She’d had enough presence of mind to call 911 before she ran inside the building, screaming. She’s now with the EMT’s who are trying to see if they can get anything useful out of her.” He pointed over to where an ambulance could be seen just off to the right and then pointed down at the body. “The vic hasn’t been identified yet but we’re running the plates of every that had been in the parking lot when the coworker arrived and are running that against the badges that had been scanned to get into the building. We should have the results before I’m done giving you this little run-down.”

 

He smiled again and stepped carefully over to a curb that lay just to the victim’s left. Following his cue, Nick and Hank did the same and though the step wasn’t all that high, it was enough to put the scene into enough perspective to allow Hank to notice one, strange thing.

 

The circle of blood that he believed had been drawn around the vic, was not a circle at all. It was a large, capital letter G. The vic made the straight line at the end of the letter but even if he hadn’t, Hank suspected that they would have seen the G with the blood alone. It wasn’t a normal G, however. It looked to have been taken from a gothic version of an old-english alphabet – the shape looking blocky and ghoulish at the same time. Hank watched as Nick stepped off the curb and carefully climbed over the body and so he followed suit. On the inside of the G were three little dots. What pattern they formed altogether, Hank had no idea but he somehow sensed that Nick did and that bothered him.

 

“As you can see, the killer had a bit of fun while he was disassembling the vic. He was even nice enough to draw us some pictures,” Wu pointed at the symbols and words that had been made with the blood with his pen. “The arms, legs, hands and feet have been found spread out around the parking lot; the killer apparently wanted us to play Easter Egg Hunt without the Easter or the eggs.”

 

Both Hank and Nick looked around to where the other officers were and Hank felt his stomach drop. The parking lot was huge. It covered a two-by-three block and was dotted with several trees. They would never be able to cover the area long enough to search the entire thing for forensic evidence and the killer knew that.

 

Hank saw Nick cock his head to the side and Hank did the same. What Nick saw that he didn’t, Hank wasn’t sure but he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

 

“Have you checked to see if there was a pattern in where he left the body parts?” Nick asked, now turning on the spot to look at all the areas where uniforms could be seen.

 

“We were more preoccupied with _finding_ the parts then playing connect the dots,” Wu answered. He looked over at Hank, silently asking for a clue as to where this was going, but Hank merely shrugged and waited for his partner to answer.

 

When Nick remained silent, Hank filed it under ‘things to ask Nick later’ and moved on.

 

“Have we found the head yet?”

 

“No,” Wu answered with a sigh that spoke of impatience. “But I’m sure we will after we check under every tree with loose ground in the parking lot.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Nick said, turning his attention back to the vic. He walked up to the neck, weaving in and out of the blood as best he could before kneeling down and studying the ground. Hank was about to do the same when Nick started walking away from the body, following a relatively small trail of blood that led away from the rest of the scene. It was an easy thing to miss as it appeared to be relatively innocuous. The sheer amount of the other blood seemed to deem this little line irrelevant.

 

Nick stopped at a parking spot that was close enough to the scene that the line wouldn’t be noticed, but far enough away that blood wouldn’t have gotten onto the car.

 

“You think the killer took the head?” Hank asked, already knowing he was not going to like where this case was going. “What kind of a sicko does that?”

 

Nick’s head snapped up to look at Hank and in that moment, his expression told Hank that he knew _far_ more than he was letting on. There was an anger in Nick’s eyes that he usually reserved for killers but Hank didn’t think it was aimed at him as just beneath it was a defensiveness so strong that Hank could practically see the protective wall being built around his friend’s past.

 

“One that enjoys games, that’s for sure,” Wu answered, drawing their attention back to him. He pointed down at the words. “Fang mich wenn du kannst,” he read. “Y’know what that means?” The two detectives glared at Wu, knowing that he knew full-well that they didn’t. “Wow, you mean I know something you guys don’t? Huh.”

 

“Get on with it Wu,” Nick said, his tone sounding bored rather than angry. He shifted his stance a bit and Hank thought he saw the faintest wince cross his friend’s face but his attention was soon distracted by the sergeant who had decided not to drag anything out.

 

“It means ‘catch me if you can’.”

 

“He’s taunting us,” Hank said, surprised.

 

“Well, I don’t know who he’s taunting but he’s definitely teasing somebody,” Wu answered. “And I’m guessing that whoever it is, knows exactly what all these gibberish symbols and this lovely letter G mean.”

 

Foley, a junior uniform officer came up behind Wu, his pale face draining of what little color it had left in it as he got closer to the body. He tapped the sergeant on the shoulder and whispered into his ear before scampering off to the safety of the border. Wu looked down at the paper he’d been handed and his expression wrinkling into one of confusion.

 

“According to the license plate, the car belongs to a Frank Rabe,” Wu said, explaining his expression. “Didn’t we have a case a few months back involving him?”

 

“Yeah,” Hank said, remembering the case. He turned towards Nick, “Didn’t you arrest his son for kidnapping?”

 

Nick swallowed before answering. For a second he looked uncomfortable at the line of questioning but he soon wiped the expression off his face and replaced it with one of remembrance. “Yeah, I think I did,” he answered, tossing in a bit of cheer into his voice.

 

“Oh yeah, whatever happened to the kid?” Wu asked, his memory returning to him.

 

“I think his lawyer was able to get him down to a slap on the wrist and some community service,” Nick answered, trying to pull up the details in his mind. “From what I heard, he goes to college part time while living with his dad.”

 

“Wasn’t his mom injured or something like that?” Wu asked, beating Hank to the punch.

 

“Yeah,” Hank answered, knowing the answer to be true. “Yeah but from the way it sounded at the trial, she and her husband were heading for divorce sooner rather than later.”

 

Wu looked down at the body, leading the other two men to do the same. “Maybe it got a little messy,” he suggested.

 

A shout rent through the air and the three men turned their heads to where it was coming from. Behind Wu, a uniform was shouting, for what none of the men knew, and several other officers joined. Hank was the first to start towards the scene, with Nick following behind him – limping a little now that Hank noticed it – and Wu bringing up the rear.

 

Like most places in Portland, a drain had been installed in the middle of the parking lot to keep it from flooding when it rained. This was what all the uniforms surrounded and they made room to allow the three newcomers to join them. Between the officers, the drain lid had been lifted and now they were able to see another body that had been shoved down it.

 

Judging from the smell of the body alone versus the relatively freshness of Frank Rabe’s body, this one had been killed before Frank had. Looking up at them through eyes blown wide in pure fear and pain was Diane Rabe, Frank’s wife.

 

Hank looked over at Wu. “You might want to hold off on that messy divorce theory.”

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX**

Sean was furious. He did his best to keep it in check while he drove, but his control was slowly slipping. How dare Pierre believe he can take what was rightfully Sean’s! He would rather see the grimm dead than with his brother.

 

The regnant within whined at the idea of Nick dead and Sean instantly knew that he could not now nor could he ever kill Nick. Cause him harm, yes – if the circumstances called for it and even then he didn’t like the idea all that much. But he could never kill him.

 

His black SUV pulled up behind the Dodge at the crime scene and Sean instantly resolved on something – he couldn’t wait for Nick to come to him. Not now. Not with his brother gone underground. It wasn’t in Nick’s best interests for him to wait and although Nick was not going to like being pushed, it couldn’t be helped. Far worse things were bound to happen if Sean did nothing.

 

**oOo**

Nick stood off to the side as he watched the officers slowly ease the body of Diane Rabe out of the drain. The entire scene disgusted him in ways he never knew existed. Diane’s body appeared to be mostly untouched. Well, compared to her husbands’ of course. Nick would have to wait for the uniforms to finish completely before he could be sure of how much damage had been caused. Even still, the fact that they _could_ drag her out of the drain and they could easily identify her meant that her body was in better condition than Frank’s.

 

What the killer had done to Frank had been monstrous. Ever since having discovered he was a grimm, Nick had met a few wesen he would have gladly called monsters but seeing what this person, this creature, had done to Frank – well, those other wesen didn’t even compare.

 

The beheading was, surprisingly, not unexpected. Once Nick had seen all the reaper symbols on the ground, he’d known that this was a wesen case and therefore a beheading was almost normal. It was the further cruelty of dismembering Frank – and apparently while the man was still alive at that – and then using his body parts to point towards the body of his dead wife that disgusted Nick. That was a bit more than sick. It was mentally unstable. And that meant that this killer was more dangerous than the best of whom Nick had gone up against so far.

 

_Catch me if you can_

It may have been written in German, but Nick knew that the taunt had been meant for him and him alone. Looking down at the body of a good man, Nick swore on whatever was left of the man that he would find who had done this and they would pay – whether it was grimm vengeance or judicial justice.

 

Oh god, Frank’s son! That was not a conversation Nick was looking forward to having; especially not with Hank looking at him as though promising they would have a real conversation about what was going on later. Nick knew that Barry would instantly blame him for his parents’ deaths and Nick also knew there’d be no way of talking him out of that belief.

 

The sound of another vehicle approaching grabbed his attention and he looked to just beyond where the crime scene started and saw that the Captain had pulled up, parking right behind Hank and Nick. Nick didn’t contemplate his boss’ appearance for too much longer as the blood once again pulled his focus.

 

There was something about the pattern of the blood that drew him in, mesmerizing him until he felt himself drawn over to the curb to look at it from a slightly different angle.

 

_G_

He’d noticed it before, and he knew that Wu and Hank had as well, but like them he hadn’t known what it had meant and therefore had brushed it off. But now, Nick found himself sensing that it was something for him. It was almost as though his subconscious recognized the symbol; it connected the G to a feeling of family and that made Nick’s blood run cold. If the grimms could do something like this, he wanted no part of that heritage.

 

“Look familiar?” A husky voice whispered in his ear, startling Nick a little.

 

Nick turned his head to see that the Captain had not only appeared on-scene but he had snuck up behind Nick without the grimm noticing it. Either Nick had been too busy concentrating to hear him, or the Captain had the ability to walk without being heard. Neither had good implications for Nick.

 

He kept his expression as neutral as he could as he answered, “No.” He looked down at the blood and symbols again.

 

“You should,” the Captain answered, following his gaze. He walked over to the foot of the letter G and then began to follow it around the body. “This is the mark of your ancestors.”

 

The way he moved as he followed the G enthralled Nick. His blue eyes tracked his boss with startling precision. A part of him viewed the other man as a threat that needed to be watched but the other part viewed him as prey that needed to be hunted. Neither feeling was pure; there were mixed emotions in each of them. Nick felt a bit threatened by the Captain – knowing now just how much of a standing Renard has in the wesen world – but he also felt this shocking desire to have the man for his own.

 

He watched as his boss completed the G pattern and then it struck him. Something had been nagging the back of his mind. It was almost like there was a pattern in the way Frank’s extremities had been laid out. He’d seen it when he’d observed the uniforms in their search and though something had clicked when they’d found Diane’s body, he’d been too busy with finding out what had been down the drain to fully process the information.

 

“There are two of them,” he whispered as it dawned on him.

 

“Pardon?” the Captain asked, coming to stand just off to Nick’s right.

 

“Hm, what?” Nick asked, not really aware of the other man’s presence and yet all-too aware of it at the same time.

 

“You said, ‘there are two of them.’ Two of who?”

 

“It’s not a ‘who’, it’s a what,” Nick replied. He was about to fill the Captain in on what he’d recognized but just then Wu and Hank joined them and he didn’t dare say anything more.

 

“We just got a 911 call from one of the Rabes’ neighbors,” Hank said without acknowledging that the Captain had arrived.

 

“Barry,” Nick said, his heart dropping a little more.

 

Soon he and Hank were running to the Dodge and on their way to the Rabes’ home in the woods.

 

**oOo**

On the outside the place looked tranquil. Nothing seemed to be out of place, not even a single plant. With most domestic disturbances there was a racket coming from inside the home but here the only sound was birds chirping merrily, unaware of the violence happening around them.

 

Nick was the first to get out of the car. His face scrunched into a wince when his leg reminded him that he shouldn’t have done as much running as he’d done today but he ignored it as adrenaline began to rush into his veins.

 

Something about how eerily quiet it was made him pull his gun out, wanting to be ready just in case there was more danger lurking about than either he or Hank realized. He knocked on the door, announcing himself as the police and calling for Barry to open the door. After waiting for about a minute, Nick threw Hank a look that his partner. It was returned with a nod and then they both entered the house, their hearts pounding in their ears.

 

Unlike the outside of the house, the inside was in disarray. If Nick or Hank thought that the crime scene at the law firm was a mess, they were wrong. The walls, furniture and floors were covered in blood. The liquid of life was so heavy on the air that the moment Nick inhaled, he tasted copper and he had to stifle his gag reflex at the taste. Hank wasn’t so lucky. Nick heard him walk out of the house and then heard him gagging and choking, signaling that he’d just lost the battle he’d been fighting with his stomach ever since they’d enter the Rabe crime scene in the parking lot.

 

“There is more than just one person’s blood here,” Nick said when he heard his partner re-enter the house.

 

It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a guess. Nick knew. This was too much blood and gore to have simply come from one person. Even if the killer had tortured Barry for the entire weekend and had kept him alive throughout it all, Barry’s body wouldn’t have been able to produce and replace the blood it had lost during its sessions. Either this was staged – which was unlikely – or there was more than one body here.

 

“I’ll check downstairs, you go up?” Hank suggested. He swiftly moved from the living room into the display room, sidestepping around all the various drops and pools of blood as he moved into the kitchen.

 

Nick nodded his agreement. “Be careful, alright?”

 

Hank returned Nick’s nod, “Yeah, you too.”

 

They split up with Hank covering the main floor and possibly the basement – if there was one – while Nick went to secure the upstairs. It wasn’t hard to guess which room he’d find the body – or bodies as it may be – as there was a thin trail of blood leading him the entire way.

 

Nick made sure to check every doorway, every crevice, every room before moving on. Not only was his safety on the line but Hank’s as well and he wouldn’t jeopardize it if he could help it. Most of the rooms had been untouched, left in the pristine condition they’d been placed before the Rabes had left. Even Barry’s had been untouched and so it had come as no surprise when the trail led Nick into the master bedroom.

 

Barry Rabe lay on top of his parent’s bed with his hands folded onto his stomach. His head had been removed, but instead of being taken, it lay on top of his chest, the kid’s dead eyes staring blankly at any who entered. Like with his father, Barry was surrounded by a bloody letter G. The blood looked as though it had been poured onto the floor and the bedspread and pillows out of a bucket rather than drawn like the last one. The amount of blood it would have taken to be able to do that didn’t escape Nick and he felt a horrified expression straighten his face out. How many victims did this guy have waiting in the wings?

 

More reaper and grimm symbols had been drawn onto the walls, painted onto the cream-colored armchair, or – and Nick felt himself swallow compulsively at this one – carved into Barry’s skin. From the amount of blood that had pooled onto the bedspread around the wounds, Nick knew that the marks had been made while Barry had been alive and while he’d been secured to the bed in some form or fashion. Which meant that his head had been removed in this room, on this very bed. The idea made him want to be sick.

 

“Hank!” he called down to his partner as he stepped further into the room. He checked the windows to make sure they were secure and then checked the closets, nearly losing his breakfast when he opened one and was greeted with the smell of several-days-old rotted flesh.

 

Hank’s boots bounded up the steps, apparently not noticing the trail of blood that had been left and entered the room.

 

“Oh, god,” he said as he took in the sight on the bed.

 

Despite his best efforts, Nick gagged as he stepped away from the closet. Hank watched him with shocked concern etched into his eyes but his mouth remained open as he got a good look inside the closet.

 

Both men couldn’t take it anymore – they had to leave the house. As quickly as they could without destroying evidence, they ran out and stumbled into the driveway, coughing, gagging, and breathing the stench-free air as deeply into their lungs as they could.

 

“We need to call it in,” Nick announced as he leaned against the car while Hank lost his breakfast for the second time in half an hour. Without waiting for a response that he knew wouldn’t come, Nick pulled out his phone and dialed dispatch. This was going to be a long day.

 

**oOo**

Sean stared at the crime scene, his mind roaming between several different things. He’d known of Nick’s case with the victim and he knew that could potentially be a problem but for now, the regnant couldn’t care less. He was more worried about how the wesen community was going to react when they saw the scene on the news. He knew there’d be panic. That was fine. Those wesen he could handle. It was the ones that would get violent out of fear that he was concerned about.

 

Walking away now that he’d done his duty, Sean pulled his phone out and dialed his newest number two.

 

“Chandi,” he said once she’d picked up. “We’ve got a situation that I’ll need you and your sisters to keep an eye on. Meet me at the Cellar Door in thirty minutes.”

 

 _“Yes sir,”_ came Chandi’s cool, alto voice.

 

Sean smirked a little. He liked the woman he’d found to replace Adalind. She was efficient, calm, and obedient. She didn’t harbor a crush on him like Adalind had and therefore her feelings didn’t get in the way of business when they talked. They respected one another immensely. She for his position and ability to lead to a fault and he for her loyalty and fresh perspective. He had no doubt that they could become friends eventually but as they had just met not a month ago, they were taking their time in building up to that.

 

 _“Shall I put someone on the Grimm?”_ she asked before he had a chance to hang up.

 

The question caused Sean to stop and pause for a minute. On one hand, with his brother on the loose, putting a protective duty on Nick wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. On the other, Nick was going to be with Hank all day and probably part of the night thanks to their new case, which meant that he would be at the precinct and therefore within Sean’s eyesight.

 

“No,” he answered, climbing into his truck and shutting the door. “The Grimm will be fine on his own.”

 

 _“Very well,”_ Chandi replied, her tone insinuating a nod. _“I will see you when you arrive.”_

Somehow it didn’t surprise him that she was already there. She was very fast when she wanted to be but he knew it was because she was already in the relative area, working. He hung up without a further word.

 

No sooner had he locked his iPhone than it rang again.

 

“Yeah,” he answered, not really in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment.

 

 _“So, I just got the most interesting phone call,”_ Adalind purred over the line. He could hear the smile in her voice and had no doubt that she thought she’d triumphed over him in some form or another.

 

“Oh?” he inquired, barely paying attention as he turned into heavier traffic and headed to his meeting.

 

 _“Yes, your brother had a lot to say,”_ she said, instantly grabbing his attention. To his shame, he almost swerved into the car next to him out of sheer surprise. Thankfully he had quick reflexes and was able to correct his mistake before it led to a car accident that he did not need at the moment.

 

“My ‘brother’,” Sean made sure to use air quotes as he spat the word out, “likes to say many things but whether or not he actually says anything is still in question.”

 

 _“Hm,”_ she dismissed, sounding neither baited into a debate nor disputing the statement. _“Well, at any rate, he asked me to dinner so we could talk all about you.”_

“Funny, the last time I knew, you would have rather kissed a grimm than spent a night with my brother,” Sean answered, pulling into a parking spot and shutting the engine off.

 

 _“Well, since I’ve already done that, I figured why not give the older, smarter brother a try,”_ Adalind returned without missing a beat. The flirty teasing had left her voice, however, belying her true feelings on either side and showing how stung she was by her latest encounter with the grimm and Sean’s involvement in it.

 

Sean remained silent, not really caring to engage the woman into further conversation.

 

 _“Well don’t you want to know where we’re going so that you can put tabs back onto your brother?”_ she asked, her voice sounding a mixture of impatience and false sugar.

 

“No, actually,” Sean answered, lying through his teeth. “What I _would_ like is to get off the phone so that I can take a meeting.”

 

 _“And who did you get to replace me? Laura?”_ she asked with no little amount of scorn in her tone.

 

“Who I got to replace you doesn’t matter,” Sean answered, entering the coffee shop and ordering his usual. “All that you need to know is that it was easy to replace you and that you don’t know who it is.”

 

 _“Be careful, Sean,”_ she warned sweetly, _“There may come a day when you need my help. And if you don’t start treating me better, I may just not give it to you.”_

She disconnected the line before he could respond. Her overdramatic flare always demanded that she have the last word. Over time Sean had begun to just let her have it. The only times he made sure he had the last word were when she’d failed him in her tasks. Then he left his threats ringing in her ears and those of her neighbors or sisters.

 

Well, Sean silently amended with a smile growing on his face, her step-sisters now.

 

The barista handed him his coffee and he headed over to the corner window seat that he’d noticed Chandi sitting in when he’d first arrived. If he hadn’t already found his mate, Sean would have considered going after her.

 

Like most of her kind, Chandi was beautiful. Her mocchachino colored skin combined with her thick, raven-black hair gave her an exotic air that was hard not to notice in a town like Portland. Her face was full and her eyes were warm and inviting whenever you talked to her. She was friendly most times, easily engaging anyone in a conversation and always making sure they felt like she actually wanted to hear about their problems. However, make her angry and it was likely you wouldn’t live through the night – whether it be from a spell or from sheer violence. Yes, she had a temper, and yes it was extreme. But it only came out whenever she felt threatened or someone she cared about or has been told to protect has been threatened; otherwise, she let troubles roll off her like waves off stone.

 

But enough of that. Sean gave himself a mental shake and tempered his physical attraction to the woman. They were here to do business, after all. So let’s talk business.

 

**oOo**

Nick stared at the words that had been painted on to the wall and door that divided the master bedroom from the rest of the house. These were also written in German but this time no one was there to translate them and so Nick – and Hank – were left to stare at them in curiosity. The grimm had no doubt that they were another taunt or that they were meant for him. Why couldn’t people write in English? Did they not know or not care that that was the only language he spoke?

 

“Come on, we need to go back to the precinct,” Hank prompted, nudging Nick with his shoulder on his way out of the room.

 

Knowing that there was nothing more that they could do while on-site, Nick pulled out his phone and took a few, clear photos of the writing. He knew that the Captain spoke Latin but perhaps he knew German too? Either way, he could always use them to show Monroe later.

 

And speaking of the blutbad, Nick’s phone lit up in a silent alert that he’d just received a missed call from his friend. Nick contemplated not calling back but Monroe rarely called in the middle of the day unless it was an emergency. He liked his privacy while working on his clocks and he also liked to let Nick have his privacy when doing his job and so he generally refrained from making contact, sometimes for days.

 

 _“Nick! Hey, where are you, man?”_ Monroe asked, his voice betraying a bit of worry. Somehow, though, Nick knew that the blutbad wasn’t worried about Nick and so he felt his curiosity and concern grow.

 

“I’m heading back to the precinct, why?” Nick asked as he climbed into the passenger side of the Dodge. He turned his face away from Hank so as to hopefully muffle his conversation since his partner didn’t know that Nick was friends with Monroe yet and Nick wasn’t sure how to explain it without telling Hank _everything._

 

Then again, Nick contemplated, maybe it would be good for Hank to know what was really going on; not only in the world but with Nick as well. Having someone to help cover certain details up would be great to say the least. But there was more to Nick’s growing desire to tell the truth than that. It was more like, he was just tired of lying to his friend and partner. There had been times when hiding the truth had almost gotten Hank hurt or killed and Nick had begun to think that, maybe if he told Hank, the man would be more on his guard.

 

_“There’s a situation going on that I think it would be best if you handled personally. Can you come to the Spice Shop?”_

Well now, if that wasn’t cryptic.

 

“What situation?”

 

Over the phone, there was a bit of commotion and Nick heard Monroe and Rosalee discussing something, probably whether or not to tell him what, specifically was happening. During their debate, Hank pulled into the parking garage below the precinct and shut off the car. Instead of moving to get out, however, he simply pivoted a little and stared at Nick.

“Monroe, I gotta go,” Nick said, not wanting to say much more with Hank so purely focused on him.

 

_“What? Nick, no, don’t-”_

But whatever Monroe was going to add, Nick never found out as he hung up.

 

“What?” he asked when Hank still hadn’t said anything.

 

“Look, I know that there’s something more going on with you,” Hank said, apparently trying to keep his tone neutral and gentle at the same time. He was trying to show Nick that he trusted him but Nick could tell that he was also demanding to be told something of substance. “And I have tried to stay out of it. I figured, give you your space and you’d tell me when you were ready.”

 

He paused to shake his head and Nick suddenly knew where this was going. His partner had reached the end of his patience via this latest case and Nick couldn’t blame him. He’d hid his reactions to the scenes very poorly and Hank wasn’t a detective because of his looks – the man was sharp and when it served him well to do so, he noticed details better than Nick sometimes did.

 

“But this case,” Hank said, proving Nick silently right. “I know you know something about it.”

 

He was right, of course. Nick knew a whole lot more about this case than what he was telling. And though that was all Hank had said, Nick knew that there had been more that had been silently added afterwards that Hank just wouldn’t voice. Yet.

 

Nick sighed and bent his head to look down at his phone which was apparently exploding with texts from not only Monroe but Bud as well. Whatever the situation Monroe was referring to was, it involved the wesen community and it had the eisbeiber freaking completely out. It was obvious by the various worried texts he was receiving that the sooner he dealt with this, the better, and since Hank wanted to know what was going on – why not take him?

 

“You wanna know what’s been goin on?” he asked, receiving a glare of ‘duh’ in return. “Come with me.” Nick climbed out of the car, pulling his car keys out of his jacket pocket as he did so.

 

“Where are we going?” Hank asked while doing as he’d been told. He got into the passenger side of Nick’s old SUV and buckled his belt just in time for Nick to take off out of the parking garage. Turning right, he headed in the direction of Rosalee’s spice shop.

 

“To see some friends,” Nick answered, checking traffic before turning onto it. “I have something I have to take care of and you want answers. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

 

Hank stayed silent throughout the car ride over to the Spice Shop, perhaps trying to process what was happening. His head was turned away from Nick, preventing the grimm from seeing his expression which both made sense and somewhat annoyed Nick.

 

The car in front of them stopped suddenly causing Nick to do the same. Out of instinct, his left leg braced against the floor while the right slammed on the brake. Nick winced when the strained, weakened muscles in his left calf gave a little more than their customary twinge. He realized, belatedly, that he may have to wrap the leg while he’s at work until the muscles are fully healed.

 

“What is with that?” Hank asked, briefly pulling Nick’s attention over to him.

 

“With what?” Nick asked, confused. The traffic began to move at its steady pace once again and so Nick started the car forward. He switched lanes so that he could park in front of the shop, but changed tactics when he noticed the plethora of cars that had already begun to line the street. He opted for a parking garage about a block away.

 

“What’s wrong with your leg? You keep wincing.”

 

Of course he would have noticed. Nick just hadn’t expected him to express his concern, even if it was steeped in annoyance.

 

“Oh, I tore a muscle in my calf over the weekend,” Nick answered, smoothly giving a half-truth.

 

“Bad?” Hank asked, climbing out of the car now that it was parked.

 

Nick followed suit, locking the vehicle before closing the door and putting the keys back into his pocket. His limp was a little more noticeable as the leg began to ache a bit more and Nick found himself growing annoyed by it. It was serving as a constant reminder of what his life might always be like – reapers constantly gunning for his head – as well as a reminder of what he lost – Juliette.

 

Hank observed the extra limp and raised his eyebrows. “Should you even be on cases yet?”

 

Nick smirked as Hank unknowingly voiced the same concerns that Monroe had had.

 

“Yeah,” he assured, feeling confident in Rosalee’s assessment of his condition. “It gets a bit sore at times but I’m fine.”

 

They stopped in front of the Spice Shop, Nick preparing to give Hank a bit more information. That plan went out the window when they heard a rather large group shouting within, however.

 

“Are we here to break up a bar fight?” Hank asked, apparently not remembering that this place wasn’t a bar. He looked up at the building and then his eyebrows drew together to meet in the middle of his forehead. “Wait a minute, I remember this place. It’s an apothecary shop or something like that, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Nick answered. He put a hand on the door handle and then pulled, saying, “Welcome to my meeting.”

 

**TBC**

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X**

Inside the Spice Shop was no more or less than chaos. Wesen of every kind – well, those that were considered to be non-violent at any rate – crowded around the place, filling and pushing to get into the back room where most of the commotion was coming from. Some were beginning to woge as their emotions – whether they be anger or fear or panic – took over and some were in full woge so that Nick knew Hank would be able to see them.

 

He stopped to look at his partner, unsurprised to see the look of utter disbelief and shock on his friend’s face. Hank looked around, looked at Nick, and then looked around again before walking out. As much as Nick wanted to know what the hell was going on _in_ the shop, he knew that he had to take care of Hank and explain things as best he could. He knew from experience that Hank probably believed himself to be losing his mind and Nick wanted to make sure that the other man knew that that was most definitely not true.

 

“Hank,” he said to alert his partner to his presence. Hank paced in front of the Spice Shop, his hands on his hips, his right hand getting itchy near his gun. At the sound of Nick’s voice, Hank looked up and stopped pacing. Nick would have been grateful for this if it hadn’t been for the fact that his partner had chosen to simply start walking away and at as brisk a pace as the other man could manage.

 

“Hank!” Nick called as he caught up, limping just a little more from the strain he just put on his leg. “Hank, stop!”

 

Thankfully Hank did as he was bid, but it was to turn on Nick, wild fear and incomprehension in his eyes.

 

“What did I just see, Nick?” he asked, as close to panicking about something as Nick had ever seen him. “What were those,” he paused to find the right word but the only one he could come up with was, “things?”

 

“They are people, Hank,” Nick answered with a sigh, raising his arms out to the side in a shrug. Hank began to shake his head ‘no’, his brain unable to acquaint what he’d just seen with people. But Nick continued, firmly. “Hank, listen to me. There are a group of people called wesen. They can change into animal-like creatures, which is what you just saw. Believe me, you are not going crazy and while I wish I had the time to explain all this properly to you, right now I don’t because I think there is going to be a riot in that store any minute and I don’t think Monroe and Rosalee can handle it on their own.”

 

Something seemed to reach into Hank’s brain and pull him back to a reality he could handle. Nick didn’t know if it was the urgency or the stress that had seeped through in his voice or if it was something else altogether but either way, the grimm was grateful. The lost look in his face disappeared and the cop soon took over.

 

After seeing the change take over, Nick no longer worried about how well Hank was handling things and went back to the Spice Shop, noticing now that the noise within was growing louder and rowdier by the minute.

 

Nick and Hank pushed their way through the crowd, much to the displeasure of everyone they passed, and eventually made it up to the workbench where Rosalee and Monroe were desperately trying to calm everyone down.

 

“Nick!” Monroe greeted when he saw his friend. Relief washed over his face but no sooner had it come than confusion replaced it. “And Hank?”

 

“It’s a long story,” Nick said, answering Monroe’s unasked question.

 

“Probably not as long as you think,” Monroe pointedly answered.

 

He opened his mouth to say something more but before he could get a word out, someone yelled, “Is this the grimm?!”

 

At the mention of a grimm in the place, the noise increased tenfold. Most of it was shrieks of fear as many tried to shy away from Nick, making sure to keep as much distance between him and them as possible. But, there were a select few who chose to be braver than their heritage had led Nicks’ ancestors to believe. Those few rushed the bench, all of them aiming for Nick.

 

Two things happened simultaneously. The first being Monroe and Hank stepping protectively in front of Nick who was more exposed since he wasn’t behind the bench like the blutbad and fuchsbau were. The second was the most effective at stopping and silencing the crowd. The instant Nick saw the small group coming towards him, Nick took out his gun and aimed it at all of them. It was the sound and motion of the gun cocking that got the rioters to stop and their swift stillness was enough to capture the attention of everyone else in the room.

 

“As I was saying,” Rosalee said when she’d gotten enough quiet in the shop to be heard. “If you could please, all calm down. We will figure this out and I promise you, no harm will come to you by way of Nick.”

 

“How can you promise us that? You don’t control the grimm?” a seelengut demanded. He stood with his arm protectively around his wife who held a handkerchief in a shaking hand close to her heart.

 

“No one controls me,” Nick announced, a little offended by the connotation of the man’s words. “But I promise you, that I will not harm any of you.”

 

“Yeah, unless you give him a reason to, of course,” Monroe pitched in almost merrily.

 

The quiet erupted into a roar of chatter once again and Nick felt Rosalee lean behind his back to whisper, “That’s not helping, Monroe,” to the blutbad.

 

“Grimm don’t need a reason to kill,” a reinigen spat with hatred in his eyes.

 

“This grimm does!” Nick loudly responded so as to be heard over the crowd. “Now, I don’t know what’s going on or what has all of you so scared, but I promise you that I’m one of the good guys. I don’t kill without cause. I’m a cop – we arrest first and shoot only if we’re forced to.”

 

“Tell that to Frank Rabe,” a jägerbar growled. His bear-like features morphed onto his face and Nick felt Hank stiffen beside him.

 

Nick stepped forward so that he was the center of focus. He wanted to provide a shield in case the previous rioters, or even some new ones, got it in their heads to attack him again. Nick knew that he and Monroe could easily handle themselves but he didn’t want it to come to that.

 

“Look,” he said, his voice dropping a little as anger overtook it, “I’m only going to say this once and if you don’t believe me, that’s fine but get out. I…did…not…kill…Frank…Rabe.”

 

Many of those in the shop shrank back as he spoke. Their eyes widened marginally in fear but it was enough to let Nick know that he was frightening them more and not helping the situation either.

 

Nick sighed. He was tired of having to constantly assure the wesen community that he was not like his ancestors; that he was a good guy. He would have thought that a little under a year of helping them out would have proven that to them. But it’s hard to erase centuries of history bred over decades mixed with fear and no one else to prove him right.

 

He pivoted to his left, wincing only so that those closest to him could see. Looking between Monroe and Rosalee, he asked, “Would you mind telling me what is going on?”

 

“There have been reports of Frank’s murder coming in since early this morning,” Rosalee began. Her voice sounded even, giving nothing away and for that Nick was grateful. He had enough to deal with between Hank’s slowly building panic and curiosity and his own emotions in turmoil, he didn’t need her fears and everyone else’s as well. “At first we all thought that it was just a plain old murder. Tragic, but nothing to truly worry about.”

 

“But then pictures started circulating,” Monroe picked up, pulling out his phone to show Nick a few of the pictures he’d received. There must be a wesen within the police force because the angle at which these were taken, it couldn’t have been anyone else. They were too close and too steady to be someone passing by or those from the press.

 

“I don’t need to see them,” Nick denied, not really wanting to or needing to see the scene again. “I already have.”

 

The group broke out again but were more easily silenced as Monroe let out a wolfish growl of warning. Nick offered his friend a silent thank you but it was Hank who filled everyone in.

 

“We’re investigating the murders of Frank, Diane, and their son, Barry.”

 

The shock on everyone’s faces was genuine and Nick began to worry that Hank had said too much. After all, if the general public hadn’t been alerted to the crimes yet, there was probably a reason that they had yet to be told.

 

“Nick, t-t-tell me you didn’t,” Bud implored, his blue eyes wide with fear and pleading.

 

“No, Bud, I didn’t kill them,” Nick replied, this time allowing his annoyance to seep into his tone. “I would think that of all people, you and your friends would know I’m not like that by now.”

 

“We do,” Bud immediately assured, relieved worry in his posture. “Yes we do, of course we do. I just had to ask. You know, just to make sure. For everyone else’s sake.”

 

Ignoring the uneasy eisbeiber, Nick turned back to Monroe and Rosalee so that they could finish their explanation. However, the couple seemed unwilling to continue at the moment. Monroe looked like he was torn between finishing the explanation or tearing some throats out and Nick could probably guess who the unlucky victims would be.

 

Monroe was a lover not a fighter by nature. Hell, he was a clock maker for God’s sake! But when you put him in a high stress situation like this one apparently was, the seemingly fragile hold he had on his more violent side would start to wane until it no longer existed. Going by the blood-red that was slowly seeping into his normally gentle brown eyes, that threshold had been being chipped away long before Nick had gotten here and it was almost completely gone.

 

Figuring it would be best to continue this discussion, and possibly others, in private, Nick turned to the group.

 

“Alright, I think it’s time all of you went back to your families, your jobs, and your homes. I promise you that the Portland Police are looking into Frank’s murder and that we will get to the bottom of it. Until then, if you have any concerns, please take them to the Portland P.D. or myself.”

 

Nick was actually more than a little surprised when they all started to hesitantly file out of the building. Some threw furtive glances his way, some threw worried or fearful looks and some looked outright murderous. But they all left as he’d suggested and he only hoped that they also listened to him when he said to take their concerns to the precinct. His friends didn’t need the stress of their worries any more than he did.

 

When they were all gone, the group as a whole seemed to deflate. Rosalee sank into an armchair and Monroe joined her in a hard-backed chair that was right behind him. Hank’s posture went from defensive to somewhat relaxed as he turned to face the three friends, clearly wanting to know what the hell was going on as well. Nick leaned against the work bench, using his arms to hold him up while he attempted to take some weight off his now-throbbing leg.

 

“You should sit,” Rosalee commented after seeing what he was doing.

 

Not wanting to bring out Monroe’s inner mother-hen, Nick declined. “Nah, I’m okay. Now what is this all about?”

 

“Do you know what this is?” Monroe asked pointedly, as he pulled out his phone, brought up the image and then shrank it so that they could see the G clearly.

 

Nick sighed. He knew he’d be hearing about that sooner or later. “I’m told that it’s a symbol of the grimms,” he answered. “But I don’t know much beyond that.”

 

“Let me guess, your captain told you that?” Monroe replied, apparently still somewhat in awe of who Nick worked with on a daily basis. “Royals,” he scoffed, “they sure like to speak in riddles, don’t they?”

 

“The Captain’s a royal? Royal of what?” Hank asked, confused.

 

“That’s another conversation for another time,” Nick dismissed. His mind was more focused on other things right now. “What I want to know is why some symbol of my ancestors automatically makes other wesen demand my head.”

 

“Woah, wait a minute, they didn’t demand your head,” Hank argued, still confused.

 

Monroe rolled his eyes at the detective. “What’d you think they were going to do? Kick him?” He scoffed again. “It’s how things are done in this world,” he explained. “Especially when dealing with a grimm.”

 

“But I’m not-”

 

“-that kind of grimm, yeah, I know that Nick. But you gotta realize that this symbol is the sign of the grimms. It’s the symbol your ancestors left to show they’d been there. Not that the blood, gore and missing head wasn’t generally proof enough. No, they _wanted_ to be feared, Nick. They _liked_ it.”

 

Nick stared at his friend, literally unable to comprehend that concept. As suddenly as the adrenaline had come all those minutes before when it looked like he was about to be killed, it left. Nick suddenly felt like he’d been running for miles and his muscles shook from the strain of holding him upright. But he wouldn’t give in. Even now that he was among friends, something in Nick refused to show weakness when it was a time for strength.

 

“You’ve got to realize, Nick, that this ritual was practiced in far different times than what we currently live in,” Rosalee gently stated. He gave her a smirk of appreciation at her attempt to make him feel better, but he couldn’t make it grow wider.

 

Monroe put his phone back into his pocket and suddenly Nick’s started burning a hole through his. Until now, he’d almost forgotten about the pictures of the crime scene he’d taken. And Monroe was one of the few people he knew who could translate!

 

“Speaking of photos,” he said as he pulled out his phone and pulled up the best picture he had of the words. “Can you translate this?”

 

He tossed the phone over to the blutbad, who caught it without trouble and then peered at it. Monroe’s face paled a bit as he read the message and it seemed to Nick that it took him longer than normal to get the words out.

 

“Vier weitere werden folgen. Aber das ist noch nicht alles. Acht weitere werden folgen und dann wirst du alles geben.”

 

Nick, Hank, and Rosalee turned towards Monroe as he read it the words aloud in German. They continued to stare at him until he looked up. It was then, Nick could see, that he realized he’d simply read what it said aloud and hadn’t actually translated it into English.

 

“Oh,” the blutbad said before looking back down at the phone. “It says, ‘Four more will follow. But that is not all. Eight more will follow and then you will give all.’ I wonder what that means, huh?”

 

He handed the phone back to Nick, who took it and looked down at the words memorialized in the gruesome ink of choice. His brain worked furiously to puzzle through the riddle, but it didn’t get very far.

 

The fact that there would be more victims was obvious. The question was would there be four, eight, or twelve? At the rate this killer seemed to be going, Nick would have to guess twelve but he sincerely hoped he was wrong about that.

 

He moved on to the second half of the riddle and mentally scoffed. He would give all, what the hell was that supposed to mean? Did that mean that he would give everything to stop the killer before he was done – including his career and/or identity – or did that mean that by the time the killer was finished, Nick would have given all he had to the maniac?

 

A weight suddenly dropped into his stomach and Nick felt as though the color had drained from his face.

 

“He’s trying to draw me out,” he whispered as the realization hit him.

 

“Who’s trying to draw you out?” Monroe asked, his keen ears picking up what Nick said easily enough. The way he asked implied that the idea was ridiculous but his tone proved that the blutbad was just curious and nothing more.

 

“The killer,” Nick answered with very little inflection in his tone.

 

He stood upright and folded his arms over his chest, showing just how defensive his subconscious – and maybe even his conscious mind a little as well – was getting. Monroe and Rosalee looked at each other, not fully understanding how Nick came to that conclusion while Hank continued to stare at him, his expression blank, almost dumbfounded.

 

The bell to the front door rang and Rosalee went to go help the customer. Nick thought about continuing the conversation without her but he figured that she is in this just as much as Monroe is and therefore has the right to hear how he’d reached his conclusion.

 

Voices which had been gentle murmurs rose to a much louder degree and Nick started forward to see what the problem was. Monroe stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I got this,” he assured, stepping ahead of Nick and entering the main portion of the shop.

 

Trusting in his friend to be able to handle whatever was going on, Nick marginally relaxed, choosing to remain standing in case he was still needed.

 

“Nick?” Hank called from behind and to the Nick’s right. Nick slowly turned around to look at his friend, waiting for the question that he knew would be coming. Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, Hank asked, “What’s going on?”

 

The bell to the Spice Shop door dinged and behind him Nick heard Monroe and Rosalee enter the back room again. To prove that Nick was right, Monroe said, “So you two haven’t like, you know, talked about any of this, have you?”

 

“I’m going to make us some tea,” Rosalee said with cheer and encouragement in her voice. “Then, Nick, you can start from the beginning.”

 

“Can’t wait,” Nick dryly replied.

 

Even so, the grimm decided that he might as well be relatively comfortable for the tale he was about to tell and the questions he was about to answer. He pulled up a spot in an armchair just in front of the dimmed window to his left. It made sense to put one there as it was right next to the cot that someone or other of their group seemed to always be in need of.

 

He slunk a little in the chair, stretching out his aching leg for a bit while he could. He’d pushed the limb a bit too far today and it was letting him know that. Still, the discomfort was surprisingly minimal considering the injury he’d received a little under a week ago. In fact, the injury had healed _much_ quicker than he or the doctors had anticipated. Nick made a mental note to talk to Bud about the salve he’d given him and to thank Bud’s wife for making him bring it over. Going by how crazy his life had just gotten, Nick had a suspicion that he was going to need more of that ointment later, and he may just need a lot of it.

 

Rosalee reentered the back room and held out a tray with a mug of tea for each of them to grab. Her brown eyes flicked down towards Nick’s outstretched leg and she made a minute motion of cocking her head to the side, silently asking if he was alright. Nick held up the mug and offered a smile, telling her thanks for the mug and assuring her that he was alright. To prove it, he folded his leg back and made it so he could lean forward on his knees while he addressed the rest of the group.

 

“Alright, is everyone comfortable?” he asked with a hint of a sarcastic smile. “Cause this is going to be one long story.”

 

“Yeah, I should know,” Monroe added with a slight scoff. “I was there from the start.”

 

“Yes, you’ve been very helpful,” Nick added, baiting his friend a little. He leaned back and drank his tea to hide the smile that had threatened to break out.

 

“Um, helpful? Dude, I’ve been instrumental,” Monroe corrected. He mirrored Nick’s earlier actions and leaned back in his chair, folding one leg over the other and then proceeding to drink his tea. His face wrinkled into an expression of dislike at the taste but he wisely said nothing to Rosalee who only would have lectured him anyways.

 

Nick let the matter drop, knowing his friend to be right in just how much the blutbad had helped over the past year or so. He took another sip of the tea, hiding his own reaction to the bitter tasting liquid as he looked to his left where Hank was sitting on the cot, his arms on his knees, his mug of tea forgotten.

 

“So!” Nick said cheerily as h began. “Do you remember the case with the missing girl?”

 

**oOo**

She watched as the grimm arrived to see her masterpiece. She couldn’t help but smile at her own cleverness. After all, he was a grimm too; he should get the connection between the art and herself as well as his own heritage. But when she saw disgust crease his face and anger burn in her eyes, she knew something was wrong. Had he not understood her message? Had she gotten the wrong man?

 

With a shake of her head, she erased the second question out of her mind. No, she knew that he was the grimm of Portland for a fact.

 

The rumors are what had brought her to the city – she’d had to see for herself if it was true; if it was really _him_ that had become the grimm. Once she’d been convinced of it – after all, no one fended off two reapers and lived without being either wesen or grimm and this man was certainly no wesen – she’d set about watching him from the shadows, following his every move. It had been made difficult by the grimm’s sudden bout with being a hermit for a week but she hadn’t minded the challenge; it allowed her to get to know the beautiful city as well as her underbelly.

 

But now, watching as he circled her work with a frown on his face, she wondered. Had someone gotten to him first and turned him into something else than what he was meant to be? Surely his aunt would have taught him how to do the job correctly, wouldn’t she have? Then again, from what she’d heard, the Marie had died before he’d truly begun to understand what was going on and so her influence would have been minimal.

 

This required more investigation. It meant putting some of her earlier plans on hold for a bit, but she was flexible enough that it didn’t bother her. Besides, it’s not like _they_ were going anywhere she couldn’t get to them. She needed to learn more about this particular grimm and who, exactly, his friends were because she suspected that he was unknowingly betraying his ancestors. And if that was the case, she’d make sure to correct that before she was finished with her mission.

 

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI**

Detective Hank Griffin sat staring at his computer screen. The light was harsh on his tired eyes but he continued to just look at it. His mind wandered from what he knew he should be doing to the day he’d had up to this point.

 

First there was the gruesome crime scenes. That had been bad, especially the one at the house. In a way Hank was thankful that the kid’s parents had already been dead because he doubted they would have survived knowing just how horribly their son had died. When he’d entered the bedroom and found the kid’s head just resting placidly on top of his chest like that was where he had belonged, Hank had felt his stomach begin to revolt. He’d been able to control it until he saw what had Nick looking equally as pale as the dead kid. When he saw all the random body parts inside the closet – that had been bad enough – but the smell from the rotting flesh had done him in. He was thankful that he hadn’t been the only one to have trouble with that scene, though, as Nick had begun the flight out of the house.

 

After Nick had called the scene in, they’d both remained outside so as to no disturb the crime scene any more than they potentially already had. Forensics would never let them live it down if they accidentally screwed something up; especially if it ended up being something vital. There was something in the way Nick was taking all of this that bothered Hank. It was obvious that his partner knew something and he wasn’t telling Hank, but he also seemed to be unnaturally angry about it all as well. It made no sense since Nick had only met this family during that one case and it hadn’t been like they’d been close during it either. From their second visit the family had made it perfectly clear that they had disliked Nick, and extremely at that. So why was Nick looking like he was ready to tear the head off the guy who had done this?

 

It was a mystery that would have had to wait as not five minutes later, uni’s showed up with forensics trailing. Both Nick and Hank had filled the newcomers in on what they would find inside and while the uni’s proceeded to jest with them about not being able to handle “a little blood”, forensics went straight in. The team that had shown up had worked with Nick and Hank before and so they knew that if this pair had trouble handling the sight, then it was pretty bad. Hank had stifled a snort while Nick had merely smirked when the uni’s had come out and immediately lost their breakfasts after only being in the house for a couple of minutes. They made no comment, something which seemed to feel harder than it should have been, at the ones that had teased them and simply followed one of the forensics techs when they had come out to beckon both detectives back inside.

 

Everyone had been puzzled by the writing that had filled the dividing wall between the hall and the bedroom. For one, they were confused by how Nick and Hank hadn’t noticed any of it before since it _was_ kind of hard to miss. However when they pointed the rest of the crime scene out – including the parts in the closet – forensics and the uni’s had admitted that they had a fair point. The other part that made them all simply stare was that none of them knew what in the hell it said.

 

Like when they had come across the fighting ring with words in Latin, Nick pulled out his phone and began to take pictures in order to show the Captain when they got back to the precinct. They were both sure that there wasn’t a language the man didn’t know and therefore assumed he’d be able to translate.

 

They had been about to get into the car, intent on doing just that, when Nick’s phone had rung. He had automatically gone into whispering and trying to keep Hank out of the conversation but he could still here a bit of it. The man on the other line sounded close to panicked and Nick was trying to calm him down while keeping him from saying too much. When Hank had parked the car, Nick had abruptly cut the man off and hung up, but he wasn’t going to get out of it so easily.

 

Nick confronted him about his staring and so Hank took that as an invitation to just get it all out in the open. He was getting kind of sick of avoidance and the general lies, anyways. When presented with the fact that Hank knew Nick knew more than he was saying – not just about everything but this specific case as well – Nick had sighed and lowered his head. Hank had patiently waited for his friend to decide what to do and what came next was unexpected but not.

 

Hiding his surprise at being ordered out of the Dodge and into Nick’s own SUV, Hank followed his friend, all the while wondering where it was they were going. He tried asking but when he got a relatively vague answer in response, he decided just to hold onto any further questions in hopes that they would be answered all in good time.

 

The car jerked as Nick was forced to slam on the brakes in order to avoid a collision and Hank had just looked over at his partner – why he didn’t know; he supposed it was a natural human reaction to avoiding danger – in time to see him wince. It suddenly occurred to Hank that Nick had been doing that a lot throughout the day and it was beginning to get on his nerves a bit. He couldn’t decide what he was more annoyed with – the fact that Nick was hurt and was hiding it or that he insisted on pushing the injury and could end up doing more damage.

 

They had parked the car and begun to walk to their destination while Hank got to the bottom of the problem. He was torn between smacking the man upside the head for his complete inability to be on desk duty so that he could totally heal and just letting the matter drop while keeping a close eye on him. He inwardly frowned at the more noticeable limp but when he heard a multitude of voice – and angry ones at that – Hank opted for the latter option. If all else failed, he would talk to the Captain about the issue later.

 

Things only got weirder from there. Nick sarcastically welcomed Hank to his “meeting” and then entered the building which served as an old-time apothecary shop. What Hank next saw made his mind immediately deny it and start trying to come with more rational explanations for it. Unable to take it all in, Hank left. He went outside to pace for a little bit, hoping the minute exercise would help his brain cycle through the images a bit easier. He knew almost instantly that it wouldn’t have. Behind him he heard Nick call his name but he ignored it in favor of trying to get away.

 

A small part of his mind, however, chose to remind him that his friend and partner was – apparently – injured and probably shouldn’t be trying to chase him down through the streets of Portland – because Hank knew that was exactly what Nick would have done had he kept going – and so he slowed down and allowed the man to catch up with him.

 

Hank couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t process it. The only thing _he_ could come up with was that he was now starting to go insane thanks to the stress from his job. In a last ditch attempt at reassuring himself that he was alright, Hank had asked Nick what he had just seen. His fear was morphed by a dwarf star of surprise when Nick had explained that not only was Hank not going crazy – albeit not in those terms – but that he could see them as well and there was a whole species dedicated to them.

 

Sometime during his explanation, Nick’s voice had begun to change from exasperated explanation to urgent worry bordering on panic. It was then that Hank seemed to come to himself and it was just in time to realize that Nick had mentioned the word riot in association with the shop. Knowing Nick he’d try and go in by himself to stop a fight and Hank wasn’t having that.

 

Steeling himself for anything he might see inside, Hank followed his partner back into the shop and joined him in pushing their way to where the clock maker was standing next to the patron of the shop. Hank either didn’t have time to be surprised or hid it when he heard the clock maker address Nick familiarly. If Nick was friends with the guy – so what? It was a bit unusual, sure; especially given that Nick had once tried to have the maker arrested for kidnapping. But if it worked, it worked and Hank wasn’t going to question it.

 

Hank had listened with rapt attention as every began talking but he soon tuned them all out when a small group with vicious-looking intent began inching their way towards where they all stood. It didn’t take Hank long to notice that they were focusing solely on Nick and it took even less for him to instantly step in the way. Body heat so warm it could have been a blanket permeated his left side and out of his peripheral, Hank noticed that the clock maker had joined him in protecting Nick. This time Hank _was_ surprised. Being friends was one thing; but being such close friends that they would protect you at their own expense took either time or a lot of dangerous experiences. Since the two hadn’t known each other even a year, Hank guessed it was the latter which made him all the more curious.

 

The word grimm kept being thrown around. Well, it was more like spat out from the group in front of him, but still. Hank wanted so much to ask what it was but he knew that now was not the right time. So, he stayed relatively near his friend and simply listened and did his best to learn as much as he could.

 

When one of the victims’ name had been mentioned, Hank felt himself drawn in. He received a shock like a cold bucket of water when the person who had mentioned Frank Rabe had suddenly become a bear with human-like features. What the hell was going on?

 

Nick stepping in front of him drew Hank back to the present and when his friend next spoke it had been with a voice colder than Hank had ever heard coming from the man. It was obvious to Hank by his posture alone that Nick was steadily getting angrier with the group before them and for some reason, Hank began to hope that Nick didn’t start any kind of fight. It was weird, thinking that his partner would just randomly start what probably would have been a massacre with a bunch of strangers just because he was angry. But there was a vibe radiating off the man that screamed at him not to doubt his instincts.

 

The group’s reaction to his tone must have done something to Nick because the next thing Hank knew, the man had sighed – the sound screaming defeat – and then turned to the clock maker and proprietor and asked them to explain what this whole affair was about.

 

From there, the conversation seemed to flow easily with the couple teaming up in their explanation. But when Nick had said that he’d already seen the pictures – meaning from their investigation this morning – the group to Hank’s left had immediately begun to react. The next sound Hank heard made the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. It took him a few minutes to realize that it had come from the clock maker and that it had been an almost feral growl. It had the desired effect, however and the group instantly calmed – if calm could have been a word to describe them all.

 

Something about the way the group kept judging Nick, believing him to be able of committing such atrocities got under Hank’s skin. He wasn’t even aware of his mouth moving until he heard himself explain that they were investigating the deaths of the Rabe family for the Portland P.D.

 

When another from the group had all but begged Nick to tell him that he hadn’t killed the family, Hank had expected Nick to explode in anger. Not for the umpteenth time he found himself surprised by his friend instead. He was kind and patient in his response. One could have almost called it indulgent but Hank wasn’t going to go there.

 

After a few minutes’ silence, Nick dismissed the large group. Why, Hank wasn’t sure but he _did_ know that he was grateful as they were starting to get on his nerves. His words said that it was a suggestion but Nick’s tone brooked no argument and so the group left. Hank didn’t miss many of the murderous looks that were being thrown at his partner and he made a mental note to make sure he kept an even closer, more protective, eye on his friend. The last thing Hank needed or wanted was for Nick to get hurt – or god forbid, killed.

 

His mind skipped over much of the next part as the woman began to attempt at making them all more comfortable. Instead it focused on the history that Nick had begun to relay shortly after all that. Now Hank knew what a grimm was. He didn’t fully understand it but at least it had been explained. It also explained all the weird cases he and Nick seemed to be getting lately and why Nick had been acting as he had.

 

Their conversation, and Nick’s story, ended when Hank’s phone had rung. The Captain had been expecting them back much sooner than this and had been wondering where they were. It was odd that their boss would be keeping such a close eye on them. While Nick had mentioned that the Captain was apparently one of these creatures they call wesen, he had been unsure about what he was. Hank had a feeling that the clock maker had been dying to tell them but then the man himself had called and the two detectives had found themselves being called back in to work.

 

“Hey,” Nick greeted, bringing Hank out of his memories and pushing him back into reality. Hank noted that he was limping still, but with a torn muscle, he also supposed that was to be expected. Though Nick was trying to exude calmness and relaxation, Hank felt his tension as though it were his own. “Look, about earlier-”

 

“Don’t even try it,” Hank interrupted before his friend could get another word out. He shifted so that he was leaning forward on his knees and fixed his attention fully on his partner. “Look, I’m glad you told me.”

 

“You are?” Nick challenged in disbelief. His eyebrows were raised hid, his expression matching his tone, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked like he was readying himself for a fight of one kind or another, but Hank didn’t intend on giving him one.

 

“Yeah,” Hank assured. “Now I know that all the crazy stuff that’s been happening around Portland actually has an explanation. Is it a rational one? No, but it’s an explanation.”

 

Nick’s expression continued to reveal his doubt but Hank wasn’t going to continue. The man would just have to come to accept what he’d just said as the truth on his own terms. After another minute or two of staring at Hank, Nick visibly relaxed and he gave a small sigh disguised as a breath. He smiled the little half smile he sometimes does and leant forward to examine the report on his desk.

 

 _Case closed,_ Hank mentally announced. He wasn’t sure if he’d have to reassure his friend again sometime in the near future but as of right now, both knew things were settled.

 

“Nick,” the Captain called, standing half in and half out of his office. When Nick looked up from the report he’d been reading, he continued, “Can I see you for a minute?”

 

Nick threw Hank a look they always give one another when the Captain only wants to see one of them and then got out of his chair. Hank noted that it looked as though the man was trying to move as though he didn’t hurt and Hank just shook his head.

 

 _Stubborn idiot,_ he thought as he turned his attention back to his glaring computer screen. Thankfully, Hank had filled the Captain in on Nick’s apparent and undisclosed injury so now the whole thing was in their boss’ hands. Hank wished the man luck; Nick was a stubborn man.

 

**oOo**

Sean watched Nick as he limped into his office. The grimm tried to hide the weakness but either the leg was too weak or too painful for him to fully disguise it. Besides, Sean could smell the injury on him.

 

On the air, Sean could smell the usual precinct scents; stale coffee, sweat, several different kinds of cologne, and forty-year-old building. But lying just beneath that, Sean could distinguish the scent that was Nick – soap, clean laundry, and spice – but mixed in was a tang that made the regnant gag. It smelled – and tasted, quite frankly – of copper mixed with sulfur. The copper was understandable; no doubt the muscle beneath the skin was still bleeding slightly, probably from the strain Nick had been putting on the leg during the day. The sulfur was something new to Sean. Gauging from the limp, it was probably the smell of Nick in pain.

 

 _Damn the reapers!_ Sean’s protective side inwardly cursed, the regnant within snarling angrily. Was his family so desperate that they couldn’t wait for Sean to get the key for them?

 

 _Don’t you mean for yourself,_ a sly voice asked while Nick came to a stand in front of Sean’s desk. Sean silently told the voice to shut up while he closed the door and sat down across from the grimm. For a moment, he thought about telling Nick to sit down but he knew that if Nick had _wanted_ to sit down, he would have and so he said nothing.

 

“Hank tells me that you’re injured,” Sean stated, not really liking to beat around the bush.

 

Nick’s posture went from stiff to stiffer as he silently became more defensive. He opened his mouth to argue but Sean held up a hand for silence and pushed on.

 

“I didn’t bring you in here to lecture you or mother-hen you,” he announced. He was going to tell the man to relax but apparently that went unsaid as Nick visibly did just that. “I just want you to make complete sure that you’re ready to be in the field. I don’t need you putting yourself or Hank in danger because you don’t want to do a bit of desk duty.”

 

“I’m fine,” Nick responded, though Sean knew that it wasn’t the truth.

 

Still, the regnant accepted the words as the truth and moved on. “I heard things got a little heated at the Spice Shop today. Everything okay?”

 

“How do you know about what happened at the Spice Shop?” Nick returned, once again becoming defensive.

 

It didn’t surprise Sean that the grimm was being as mistrusting of him as he was. Sure, it hurt a bit, given the bond that Sean felt with the man, but it was understandable. Sean had lied to Nick for the past year, longer actually but Nick didn’t know that yet. He’d also done other things in the name of his own agenda but, again, Nick didn’t know about any of that yet. And besides, it wasn’t in a grimm’s nature to be trusting of those that weren’t in their inner circle and Sean hadn’t quite earned that privilege yet.

 

“Nick, every wesen knows about the Spice Shop,” Sean answered, refusing to tell the grimm about the team of hexenbieste’s he has following the man about.

 

“But you aren’t exactly wesen, are you?” Nick challenged with a little snark in his tone.

 

“I see someone’s been filling you in on the way things are around here,” Sean responded, doing his best to refrain from smiling. It was ridiculous how cute he found Nick right now. “Please give Monroe my thanks for saving me the trouble.”

 

Nick didn’t respond. He kept staring at Sean as though he were still trying to decide if he was the enemy or a friend. Sean sighed, tiring quickly of this entire conversation.

 

“Nick, I’m only trying to help,” Sean said as the sigh finished itself.

 

Nick nodded to show that he’d heard but his posture remained…prickly.

 

“Well, I would say ‘then why don’t you start from the beginning’,” Nick started, sounding more than a little snide. “But right now and right here don’t seem like the time or the place.”

 

Sean smiled, though he couldn’t say why. “No, it isn’t,” he agreed. He wanted to suggest that Nick come to his place so they could talk in safety as well as privacy but he knew that Nick would instantly refuse. He would want either common ground or home-field advantage, neither of which defined Sean’s place.

 

“Look,” Nick said, clearly running out of patience as well. “I don’t know if this is the way to do this but I can’t really think of any other place and, quite frankly I’m not in the mood to be anywhere else at the moment, so why don’t you swing by my house tonight around ten or so and then you can fill me in on anything you think that I’ve missed.”

 

Home-field advantage it is. Sean was more than a little nervous about being in a grimm’s territory on by his self – regnant or not – but as this was Nick and Nick was fair, he swallowed his unease as though it were nothing and nodded. Underneath the nerves was a giddiness that thoroughly disgusted Sean. After all, it wasn’t as if Nick’s invitation had been friendly; actually it could have been considered damn near hostile.

 

“Quite the night owl,” Sean commented, smirking a little.

 

Nick didn’t return his smile. His blue eyes were almost the same shade of colored ice as he replied, “You aren’t the only one who works late.”

 

Whether or not that was a hint that Nick suspected that Sean had something to do with his aunt’s death, Sean didn’t know but he wasn’t given time to find out as Nick walked out without another word. His limp was definitely noticeable now and Sean shook his head. He should have just demanded that Nick sit down. But he wasn’t Nick’s mother and he wasn’t there to take care of Nick – well to solely take care of Nick – and so he left it alone. If all else fails, Sean will check on the wound tonight…that was, if Nick let him.

 

Sean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. God save him from stubborn grimms.

 

**oOo**

Nick walked out of the Captain’s office and headed straight to his desk. His leg had been throbbing constantly since the Spice Shop and it was really beginning to grate on his nerves. The pain wasn’t that bad but it was starting to wear on him and Nick felt his patience for the political games that Renard was playing wane until it was non-existent.

 

"Everything okay?" Hank asked as he leaned down to open his drawer and grab his things.

 

“Yeah,” Nick smoothly replied, smiling to add more assurance. “I just have a lead that I need to track down.”

 

“A lead, huh?’ Hank persisted, obviously not believing him.

 

"Yeah," Nick responded. “You remember what those are, right? We use them to try and solve cases. Ringing a bell?”

 

“Yeah, okay smart ass,” Hank answered with a smile. “I’ll let you get away from my questions this time, but tomorrow, you and I are gonna have a long talk over some beers.”

 

Having known that this was coming, Nick smiled and agreed that he would. He had a feeling that Hank’s company was going to be much more preferable than that of the Captain’s but the beer was a good incentive as well. Maybe he should have suggested that the Captain bring some along with him tonight. Nick shook his head to erase the idea. It was bad enough that he’d invited the wesen over to his house – and that his stomach had done a little flop of excitement when the Captain had accepted – he wasn’t about to add beverages to the mix and have it potentially add a friendliness to the invitation where there really wasn’t any.

 

Just as he reached his truck in the underground, Nick swiftly pivoted to look behind him. He had the sneaky suspicion that he was being followed, but unlike when the Captain had openly stared at him, it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. Well, not entirely at least.

 

Still, when he looked there was no one behind him. Knowing that that really didn’t mean anything, Nick turned around and climbed into his truck, grateful when he was surrounded by the peace of the vehicle.

 

The engine roared to life and Nick immediately began to back out of the parking space. The headlights illuminated the far corner of the parking structure and for a second, Nick thought he’d seen a person dressed in all black hiding there but when he looked again, the figure had gone.

 

Writing it off as a day spend being tightly wound, Nick shrugged it off and began to head to the storage yard. He had some research he needed to do anyways and whether or not someone was following him wasn’t going to distract him from finding potential answers. No. He’d save that problem for another day.

 

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter XII**

Kelly Burkhardt was furious. She had been watching her son and his friends throughout the whole day and she had yet to discover that Nick had become the grimm he’d been meant to be. Not only did he not kill wesen as – she assumed – he’d been taught but he was _friends_ with them!

 

When she had written that note in the bears’ bedroom, she hadn’t known just how right she had been. Nick _would_ lose everything by the time she was through but it wasn’t in the way she had originally meant. She thought that he’d just lose his friends and possibly his job, leaving him free to travel with her as she had wanted it to be for so long. Now, she knew that by the time she was done, he would lose his family.

 

It disgusted her but she knew that that was the best word she could use to describe those in her son’s life. They weren’t just his friends. They were his confidants. They were the ones he trusted above all others and they were the ones that he felt he could rely on when he was at his worst.

 

Her motivation to kill all the wesen that her son had let live suddenly doubled at the realization that he’d violated years of history and teaching and become something alien to his ancestors and herself. With heavy heart, Kelly realized that she was beginning to no longer recognize Nick as her son. The familial bond was slowly fading and she knew that soon she wouldn’t be able to see him as anything other than the grimm that had betrayed his calling and must be stopped.

 

She shivered in the night Portland air, making her way to the stolen car that sat a few blocks away from the precinct. November had settled onto the city and soon Thanksgiving would be upon them all. It grieved Kelly to know that she no longer had a family in this world to be thankful for or with. But she didn’t let it stay long. She’d learned long ago that emotions got you killed and therefore did her best not to have any to tie her down.

 

Wanting to make this a fair fight – she had noticed that Nick was hurt after all – Kelly decided to give her son the rest of the week to attempt to find her – well, the killer in his mind – as well as discover what the hints she’d left actually meant as well as to heal a little.

 

Yes, she’d wait until everyone in Portland became all too comfortable with her silence and then she would strike again. Only this time, she’s make things a lot more personal for Portland’s resident grimm.

 

**oOo**

Nick walked into his house at ten fifteen. As usual, he’d gotten lost inside the stories of the past and hadn’t realized what the time was until it was already late. He dropped his keys into the ceramic bowl by the front door and was just about to do the same to his gun when there was a creak of the floorboards in his living room. Nick instantly drew the weapon out and held it before him, his finger ghosting the trigger, ready to fire at a second’s notice.

 

“It’s customary to show up on time when you’ve invited someone over to your house,” the Captain’s voice announced just as the man himself entered the entryway. He looked neither miffed nor jesting, leading Nick to believe that he was merely using the statement to announce his presence so that Nick didn’t shoot him.

 

Nick holstered his gun, leaving the weapon at his hip just in case, and walked through the living room and into the kitchen.

 

“And it’s customary to wait _outside_ for the person to get home rather than just breaking in, but you skipped right over that one, didn’t you?” Nick returned, more than a little annoyed at the audacity of the Captain. Who did he think he truly was that he could just barge into Nick’s house when he wasn’t home?!

 

The Captain remained silent but Nick could feel his stare on the back of his neck as he reached into the fridge and grabbed a beer. He hesitated for a second and then grabbed a second one, tossing it to his boss without ever doubting that the man would catch it and then opening his own. He downed half the beer in one gulp, which was probably not a good idea but it had been a long, crappy day and he somehow doubted that the rest of the week would be any easier.

 

A second popping sound to his right told him that the Captain had opened his own beer but the short time in between the flash of the bottle being tilted upwards and then lowered told him that he man hadn’t taken nearly as big of a drink as Nick had. Knowing it was a good idea to nurse the rest of the beer so as to keep his wits about him, Nick placed the beer on the counter he was leaning on and then looked over at the Captain.

 

The man was impeccably dressed as always. He clearly hadn’t gone home before coming over to Nick’s, or if he had he hadn’t changed clothes because he was wearing the same suit he’d been dressed in at work. His suit jacket had been discarded, Nick noted with an inward frown and he immediately began wondering where the Captain had placed it, hoping that it hadn’t been on the peg by the front door and he just hadn’t noticed it. He stood completely straight; not leaning on anything and not slouching, showing his breeding in the stance, though whether or not that was intentional, Nick didn’t know or care.

 

When a rather vicious throb rent through his leg, Nick shifted so he could get off the limb while still leaning against the counter. He refused to show weakness to the man in front of him, though he couldn’t say why.

 

The Captain, however, seemed to figure out why he had shifted and offered Nick a small smile.

 

“Relax, Nick,” he said, stepping out of the doorway and moving to the side. “I’m not going to bite you and you should get off your leg since you were reluctant to take it easy during the day.”

 

The logic was sound but the grimm inside Nick was having trouble conceding. He moved to fully support his weight, thus stubbornly showing the other man that he was fine. But the moment he put weight on his left leg, pain spiked again and his body reacted via attempting to take its weight off the limb.

 

Whether Nick actually made a sound or if it was just too obvious for the Captain to ignore, he was by Nick’s side before he could do much else. His calloused hands were soft as they took hold of Nick’s arm and slipped it over his shoulder, silently providing support while the Captain helped him limp over to the couch in the living room.

 

“Stubborn grimm,” the Captain remarked, making it sound like a curse rather than a statement.

 

Nick grimaced as he attempted to put weight on his leg, his body – or was it his pride? – simply refusing to allow himself to hop across his house. Still, he heard the comment and retorted, “Pot, meet kettle,” as he easily remembered when the Captain had been injured a few years back and refused to not only stay home to rest but to allow anyone to try and take care of him while he had been at work.

 

The Captain’s arm tightened around Nick’s waist when he – unwillingly – let out a hiss and Nick was surprised at the strength he felt within the grasp. For a moment he was worried about his boss leaving a bruise, but he knew that the man was being as gentle as possible with him and therefore he had nothing to worry about.

 

And speaking of which, what was with the gentleness? Nick wasn’t a piece of fragile glass that was about to break if someone applied too much pressure. Yes, he was injured and currently hurting, but there was no reason to treat him so delicately.

 

On the other hand, a small part of Nick kind of liked it. It showed that the Captain cared which surprised Nick more than a little as the man had rarely shown any inclination to anything of the sort before now. Sure, he expressed concern when it came to scuffles while at work but this was something entirely different. The touches could almost be classified as tender, inching dangerously close to loving even. It was odd and yet, Nick somehow found himself not minding one bit. It felt as familiar as being touched by Juliette, actually.

 

Nick was held steady as he lowered himself onto the couch. The Captain waited long enough to ensure that Nick had sat down before he went back into the kitchen to grab their drinks, giving Nick his before going over to one of the chairs across from the couch and sitting down.

 

Knowing that it would ease the ache within his leg, Nick stretched the limb out onto the couch, pivoting enough so that he wasn’t actually applying any pressure to the injury as he did so.

 

“I know that you think you’re fine, but you’re not,” the Captain said, breaking the silence that had been going on for far too long between the two. When Nick focused his gaze on to the man’s face, his green eyes briefly flicked towards Nick’s outstretched leg before returning to meet his own blue ones. “I’m putting you on desk duty for the rest of the week and Monday if you’re able to run through a brief training session with no physical problems to hinder you, then you can return to full duty.”

 

“Did Hank put you up to this?” Nick joked.

 

He wanted nothing more than to argue but he recognized the tone the Captain was using and knew there was no point. He wouldn’t get anywhere with it and if he was to be honest, he knew the man had a point. Today had shown Nick that, just maybe, he had pushed a little too hard. And it wasn’t like his job wasn’t physical. If he were to be forced to chase someone, he could not only do more damage, but he could endanger Hank as well as let the suspect get away if he wasn’t physically fit enough.

 

“I think you know the answer to that,” the Captain answered without actually answering. The man sighed, the sound echoing through the all-too-quiet room. Nick thought it sounded like the man was getting ready for a battle that he knew he wouldn’t win but couldn’t avoid but he couldn’t be sure. “So,” the Captain said, “let’s talk.”

 

**oOo**

Sean settled himself into the chair across from where Nick was stretched out, silently preparing for the warring emotions he was going to have thrown his way during the upcoming conversation. His eyes snaked down to the elevated leg and he found himself unconsciously sniffing the air to see if Nick truly was alright there or if he was just dealing with everything as it was. The sulfuric stench that instantly greeted him had him withdrawing, forcing him to quickly school his features into neutrality before Nick could suspect or question what he had just been doing.

 

Idiot grimm. He’d definitely not done himself any favors by forcing the leg to do as much as it had done today. The fact that the stench was that strong told Sean that the man was still in a good amount of pain – though it had lessened considerably from the time they’d spent in the kitchen – and if Sean had to guess going by the slight copper taste that lingered on his tongue, he guessed that the Nick may have also re-torn the muscle; albeit, not at such a strong degree.

 

“Where should we start?” Nick asked, responding to Sean’s declaration with the usual sarcastic quip he used when he wasn’t feeling well enough to be polite or himself. It seemed that the answer was rhetorical, however, as he almost immediately said, “Let’s start with how long you’ve known.”

 

“That you were a grimm?” Sean asked, confirming the rest of the question. When Nick continued to sit as still as a statue on the couch, the regnant took that as an affirmation and answered, “Since your aunt came to town. Perhaps a bit longer, but not much.”

 

Nick nodded, his jaw working a bit as he swallowed the information. “And so all the wesen cases I’ve been getting were?”

 

“Completely coincidental. I had no idea whether they were wesen or not when I handed them off to you and Hank,” Sean answered with a virtual shrug. Though he knew he was going to regret this immensely, he knew he had to stop the line of questioning and tell Nick something outright.

 

“Nick, you should know that it was me that tried to have your aunt killed,” he said without hesitation or concern for how this information would affect Nick. Well, that wasn’t true. Sean was concerned, more so than he had any right at the present to be, but he couldn’t let that emotion get in the way of being honest with the man. If he were to truly have any chance of a relationship with Nick – which he almost counted on doing – then everything was going to have to come to light; the good and the bad.

 

The change was almost instantaneous. Every muscle, it seemed, in Nick’s body tensed and though it must have hurt to do so in his injured leg, the grimm didn’t show any sign of it. His jaw had clenched so tightly Sean could see the delicious outline of it complete with the tantalizing vein that went down to his neck. The anger that exuded from him was palpable and for the first time, Sean felt the grimm coming to the fore.

 

 _This was what must have met the reapers when they attacked,_ Sean thought before quickly wiping the idea away. No, Nick’s fight against the reapers had been based on survival instinct. Any fight that were to happen here would be based off anger, which could be equally as deadly or equally as likely to get the grimm killed.

 

If it hadn’t have been for the knowledge that Nick was injured, Sean would have been preparing for a fight. But, though Nick may be able to ignore the pain he’s causing himself, he wouldn’t be able to ignore the weakness from the muscle and so he wouldn’t be able to do more than attack once before the fight would be over. Sean couldn’t deny that the idea gave him comfort. Not only did he not want to hurt Nick further, he didn’t want to fight the grimm, his grimm, and end up losing any chance he had at forming an alliance with the man.

 

“You sent Adalind to her hospital room to kill her,” Nick ground out, apparently trying to keep control of his emotions. “Did you instruct her to inject me if she couldn’t get to Marie?”

 

The betrayal that shown – perhaps unwillingly – in Nick’s eyes struck Sean in the heart. He had known that this would be hard for Nick to hear but he hadn’t realized precisely how hard it would be for _him_ to witness. He felt Nick’s betrayal and pain and anger as though they were his own. The regnant within was torn between roaring with rage and mewling at the sheer overwhelming force of the pain and by God it hurt to know that he had been the cause of it all.

 

Still, Sean didn’t get to be where he was by being an open book and so he put a tight lid onto his feelings and forced himself to push through everything, treating the situation like ripping a band aid off.

 

“No, that she did on her own.” And he hadn’t been all too pleased to hear it, though he’d let it slide at the time. If that had happened now, Adalind wouldn’t have been so lucky.

 

“Well, bully for her,” Nick replied, the smile on his face looking unnatural and wrong. He was silent for a bit before he looked back up at Sean and it took the regnant’s breath away to see tears forming in the beautiful blue eyes. “Why?”

 

“Because she was a threat to those within my protectorate and to my plans for you.”

 

Tears spilled down Nick’s cheeks but his voice showed no sign of them as he growled, “A threat? She was dying of cancer, how was she a threat to anyone?!”

 

“Her mere presence was a threat, Nick. You saw how some in the community reacted when they heard about the grimm ‘G’, think of how they would have acted if they’d heard that the person they’d come to expect it from was prowling the streets of Portland?”

 

It was a weak defense and Sean knew it, but it was all he had. And in the sight of the pain he’d caused the man in front of him, he felt the walls he’d built to support it crumble, bruising him a bit on the way down.

 

“She could barely walk much more than a block, she was so weak,” Nick returned, his voice growing in strength as well as volume. “She was no threat to anyone and you know it. You just wanted her out of the way.”

 

“She was a threat to herself,” Sean returned. He found it too hard to simply sit there and argue this and so he got up to walk around a bit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nick do the same – although his stance as anything but sure – and while a part of his mind knew he should force the grimm to sit back down, he kept his distance. He knew that his presence wasn’t currently welcome in this house and he wasn’t going to push anymore boundaries at the moment.

 

“The life she led meant that she couldn’t go to any city without being hunted by its wesen,” he continued. “She killed _hundreds_ of wesen and I know that she told you to only hunt the bad ones but believe me when I say that that was not what she was taught and it most certainly wasn’t how she had lived. Perhaps in her last few months, she’d come to realize how wrong she’d done everything but it was too late for that and I wasn’t going to allow her to get close enough to you for long enough to teach you to be a monster like every one of your ancestors had become.”

 

“So you had her killed?” Nick responded, his voice booming in anger now. “What about my mother, did you have her killed to?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nick,” Sean snapped, the question registering as childish to him. “Your mother was not only a monster like the rest of her kin but she was also a coward. Instead of fighting us like a grimm, she hid and sent her friend and your father in her place.”

 

When Nick just simply stared at him with a blank expression, Sean found himself continuing. “No, Nick, she’s not dead. She’s in hiding and has been in hiding ever since the day your father died. But believe me, if I ever see her in Portland, I won’t hesitate to have her killed because it’s the right thing to do, not only for my own survival – and yours – but for those in Portland.”

 

Sean wasn’t sure precisely what had happened next but judging from the throbbing in his cheek and the corresponding pain in his head, he easily guessed that Nick had punched him. How the man had moved as fast as he had, Sean couldn’t figure out and he didn’t bother trying to because if Nick was able to do that without noticing his own body’s weakness, it meant that the grimm was stronger than Sean had estimated. It annoyed him to be wrong but at the moment he had more pressing things to worry about.

 

He hoped that that would be the end of things as far as physicality was concerned but when Nick remained standing above him looking furious, Sean’s inner animal emerged, ready to attack and defend itself. Sean supposed that he’d been keeping the dragon-like part of himself caged for too long because it was far too easy for it to come to the fore and disregard Sean’s human’s side’s commands.

 

Sean felt the features of his face contort enough for his eyes to change color and his strength to increase. It was as much as he could allow, his body still fighting the rest of the change, but it was enough to make Nick take a step back in shock. He limped on his left side and the regnant saw it as an opportunity. He kicked out at Nick’s injured leg, causing the grimm to practically seize in pain. Not wasting any time, Sean pounced on Nick and held him to the floor.

 

“I am not your enemy, grimm!” he angrily growled.

 

Despite his words, Sean knew that at this moment, he was. He could feel the regnant wanting to teach the little child before him a lesson in respecting his elders. But at the same time, Sean didn’t want to hurt Nick any more than he already had. It was difficult balancing the two sides and he knew that eventually one would be victorious over the other. He just hoped it was the right side.

 

“I find that hard to believe after you’ve just threatened to kill the only family that I – apparently – have left,” Nick returned, his voice little more than a whisper. Still, the fury seemed to have deserted him and Sean, sensing that things weren’t going to get any more physical, let him up.

 

“You don’t know your mother like I do, Nick,” he said, watching as Nick pulled himself off the floor – tossing Sean’s offered hand a contemptuously glare in the process – and onto the couch all while not putting any weight on his leg.

 

“Apparently she was too cowardly to stick around for me,” Nick answered, spitting the words at Sean.

 

Sean bent his head, ashamed. He’d let his emotions with regards to Nick’s mother and aunt get the best of him and it had cost him. Well, not him, personally, but it had hurt Nick, deeply, and that knowledge hurt him.

 

“I’m sorry I said that, Nick,” he apologized, silently wondering if it would fall on deaf ears. “I let my history with your aunt and mother override my tongue.”

 

Nick gave a sad little smirk. The anger and adrenaline seemed to have totally left his system and now he seemed to be running on fumes. From where he stood, Sean could easily see that even they were almost depleted. He needed to leave and let the man get some rest, he knew that. But he didn’t want to do it with things like they are. He needed to make sure that Nick would still talk to him when he left.

 

“Do I even want to know what that is?” the grimm asked, trepidation and exhaustion filling his voice.

 

It was enough to let Sean know that, though he may not be forgiven, Nick was still willing to continue their talk and he sighed in silent relief.

 

“Perhaps,” Sean granted, thinking that maybe if Nick understood where _he_ was coming from, things might go a bit easier. “But for now, you and I both need sleep. I suspect it will be an equally long day for the both of us tomorrow and you were already exhausted before all this began.”

 

Nick snorted. “I don’t even want to know how you know that.” He shifted a bit, looking as though he were about to get up but stopped with a look of sheer pain on his face.

 

“I can let myself out, Nick, don’t worry,” Sean assured, picking up his suit jacket which lay over the back of the other, empty, chair next to his. “Rest and take care of yourself,” he commanded, already torturing himself over the absolute care and concern in his voice.

 

Nick nodded but didn’t respond. His eyes, normally so expressive, were blank and dull. Taking it for what it was – not a dismissal but merely a need to be alone – Sean left. He knew there’d have to be some explanations given tomorrow when they both arrived at work, more injured than when they’d left the night previous. But for now, it was time to go home. He’d deal with tomorrow when it came.

 

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

The day was bright and sunny, leading one who hadn’t been outside to believe that it was a warm day. The trees outside Monroe’s house danced a merry little jig as a breeze swept through them, reminding the blutbad of someone that was being tickled and couldn’t contain their squirming or giggling. For a moment he just sat in his study, watching the activity with a serene feeling washing over him like a gentle wave.

 

Clocks ticked and chimed all around the house, reminding him that it was not yet ten a.m. His stomach growled at him and his eyes drooped a bit as he sat and watched the world outside. He knew he should take a break and grab himself a bagel with schmear along with another cup of coffee but he just couldn’t find the energy to do so.

 

Last night hadn’t been as restful as Monroe had needed it to be. Despite Nick’s assurances that wesen were safe, Monroe had been kept up with nightmares about the grimms coming for him or Rosalee and chopping their heads off.

 

The grimms coming for him hadn’t been so bad; each time Monroe had been able to defend himself well enough to get away. But Rosalee? Every single time he had been too late to help her and had arrived just in time to see her beheaded. It had been enough to get his blood boiling and see red – literally.

 

Relief had always been the first thing he felt upon waking. He was thankful to know that they had just been dreams and that he and, more importantly, Rosalee were fine.

 

Although he nor the fuchsbau hadn’t spoken of what their friendship was slowly morphing into, Monroe wasn’t going to deny that he had strong feelings for her and he wouldn’t mind taking things a step or two further. Still, he judged her to be a bit jumpy when it came to relationships so he knew he had to be careful in what he said or did with her. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression of his intentions.

 

His stomach rumbled at him again, reminding him that it was still there and still hungry. Monroe pushed back from the desk and stood, stretching his slowly tightening muscles. He went into the kitchen, fully intent on grabbing a bagel and making some good coffee. Halfway through his living room, however, the blutbad stopped and slightly pivoted to look out his windows.

 

The day looked too bright to simply ignore it. And since he didn’t have to have this specific clock fixed until the weekend – which was three to four days away – he could spare some extra time to go out and grab something for breakfast. Perhaps he’d take something to Rosalee at the shop. He knew that she didn’t eat nearly as much as she should while she was working and would probably welcome the sustenance.

 

Monroe was grabbing his keys, throwing on his coat and out the door before he could change his mind. He sucked in his breath when the cold air hit him in the face. The day was deceptively cold, announcing that winter was not only coming but that it was coming soon. Now that he had a broader view of the sky, he could see thick clouds forming in the northwest. A part of him hoped that it wasn’t going to snow but the other part, the part that adored Christmas, sincerely hoped that it would, and soon.

 

While walking to his car, he kept getting the feeling that he was being followed but every time he turned to check, there was no one there. He did a full circle around just to make sure but when he still found nothing he kept walking.

 

Assuming that it was his overactive imagination, Monroe climbed into his little Beetle and slammed the door. The metal creaked and groaned and Monroe found it soothing in its familiarity. He knew he should get the vehicle a check-up, and maybe replace some of the parts that were the worse for the wear, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The engine was in as good a condition as any engine that old could be; it was just the superficial stuff that he needed to attend to.

 

He checked once more just to make sure that there wasn’t anyone hanging around his house or the houses of his neighbors before he pulled out of the driveway and drove down the street. He absently noticed a figure in black duck into the forested park across the street but he put it aside as he turned onto one of the more main streets and headed in the direction of the Spice Shop. He’d talk to Nick about it later. For right now, he had other things to do.

 

 

**oOo**

 

Hank walked into the precinct the next morning with two cups of coffee in his hands. He never knew where Nick dug up his extra “leads” but he had begun to notice that his friend was always dog-tired the next morning. It was usually only after a couple cups of coffee or so that Nick became himself and was able to focus and process things. Hank had a feeling that today wouldn’t be any different. Although, to be honest, the coffee could have just as easily been for him.

 

Last night had been filled with many things but sleep really wasn’t one of them. It had eluded him in much the same fashion as it had when he’d first started dating Adalind. The only difference was that this time, instead of seeing a sexy woman in his shower, Hank was seeing monsters in every person he looked at. The fact that he knew that they were real didn’t really help matters. Now he was left wondering if everyone he knew was a creature or when someone would just morph on him and then attack him. He was grateful that Nick had told him everything – including what had gone on last week and what he’d found out about the Captain – but at times, Hank found himself wishing that he lived somewhere else and had a partner that was just a normal person.

 

“Hey, have you seen Nick today?” Wu asked just as Hank sat down. The sergeant’s tone was casual, but the detective noticed how his brown eyes shifted slightly over his right shoulder to where the captain’s office was. Hank’s eyes followed Wu’s and it was then that he noticed the dark, painful looking bruise adorning the man’s left cheek.

 

“He’s not in yet,” Hank answered. “What happened to the Captain?”

 

“That’s just it,” Wu answered. “Nobody knows.”

 

“And you think it has something to do with Nick?” Hank asked, his tone showing just how ridiculous he thought the idea.

 

“Well,” Wu began, making it sound like he at least, partially, did. “So far he’s the only one that I haven’t asked yet, so I was hoping, that maybe he did, yeah. Why? You don’t think he would? I mean, after all, he and the Captain were looking a bit too comfortably close at the crime scene yesterday.”

 

With a meaningful waggle of his eyebrows, Wu walked away. He was smart and every bit as observant as Nick and Hank but Hank suspected that the sergeant had a bit of a lazy streak in him when it came to certain tasks and that was why he hadn’t made it to detective yet.

 

Still, his words made Hank begin to think and wonder. Was there something more going on between Nick and the Captain? Well, of course there was, Nick had told him so yesterday but now Hank was beginning to wonder if there was something _more_ than that more; as in potentially sexually. Hank sincerely doubted it since he’d only ever known Nick to go after women – well one woman in particular up until recently – but he hadn’t a clue about the Captain.

 

His mind’s eye rewound to yesterday at the crime scene. It swiftly moved over the blood, death and violence and instead focused on Nick. He skipped over to when the Captain arrived and out of the corner of his mind’s eye, Hank _could_ see just how uncomfortably close Nick and the Captain had been when they’d been alone. Hank was both a little disturbed and relieved to see that it was all the Captain getting into Nick’s personal space and not the other way around. But then again; if Nick _was_ Bi or even closet-gay, what did it matter?

 

While Hank mulled that over in his head, uneven footsteps echoed through his ears. He was still chewing on the thoughts when he looked up to see Nick heavily limping into the precinct. His friend wasn’t even bothering to try and hide the weakness this morning and it made Hank wonder what had happened last night that had caused the change.

 

As Nick came closer, even sitting down without a greeting, Hank noticed bruising on the knuckles on his right hand. Whatever Nick had hit, he had hit it hard as the colors seemed to spread from his knuckles down to his fingers and hand.

 

A whisper wafted through his mind, speaking of a connection between the Captain’s bruised cheek and Nick’s bruised hand and while it made Hank curious, he really didn’t care all too much about that; as far as he was concerned, they were even. What bothered him was if the Captain retaliating was the reason that Nick’s leg seemed to be bothering him more today than it had last night.

 

Hank shrugged and silently passed across one of the two coffee’s he’d brought. Whatever had gone on last night was Nick’s business and if he wanted Hank to know, he’d tell him. Until then, Hank would wait. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried.

 

“Long night?’ Hank asked as he released Nick’s coffee and picked up his own. He took a gentle sip to check the liquid’s temperature and then took a giant gulp when he discovered it to be cool enough to drink.

 

Not surprisingly, the man really did look tired. This was more than lack of sleep, however. Nick looked weighed down. It actually appeared as though his friend hadn’t slept all night, if his red-rimmed eyes were anything to go by.

 

“You could say that,” Nick groused before taking a big gulp of coffee. While a minute before, Nick had looked like a drowned rat that had been soaking in the waters of trouble, the instant that Hank had asked him about his night, his posture had straightened up, almost defensively.

 

Hank figured that the man wasn’t in a mood to talk but he also wanted to give his friend the opportunity to do so. Something – or was it many things? – was obviously troubling the man and Hank wanted to know, not only what it was but if he could help.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as he could.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Hank saw the Captain suddenly look up and stare straight at the back of Nick’s head. There was such a look of sadness and perhaps even regret on the man’s normally stoic face that Hank found himself taking another drink of coffee that he wasn’t quite yet ready for so as to hide his frown. What did the Captain have to be sad or remorseful for when it came to Nick? What _had_ gone on last night?

 

“Not really,” Nick dismissed, offering a half smile as apology for the rudeness. He leaned back in his chair, rocking it back and forth on the spring as he did so. “Do we have anything on the case?”

 

Ah, yes. The case. This was not something he was looking forward to delving in to. Not only was the case and photos gruesome and just plain wrong, but the way the killer was singling Nick out grated on Hank’s nerves. That and they had absolutely nothing to go on.

 

“Nadda,” Hank answered, leaning forward so that his right arm was on the desk. “Nobody saw anything until it was too late and they were dead. As far as the security tapes from the law firm go, the killer knew precisely how to avoid them so all we really get to see is the Rabes die and trust me when I tell you that Frank’s wasn’t pretty.”

 

“Yeah, I gathered that by the dismemberment,” Nick retorted, life coming into his eyes a little bit as the caffeine surged through his veins. He leaned back forward, wincing a little, so that he could pick up the case file that had been copied and placed on his desk. “What about prints?”

 

“Nothing. Whoever did this is good.”

 

Hank hated admitting it when a killer got the best of them but he had to hand it to this one; they had absolutely nothing to go by other than the references to Nick. However, as only a few of them actually knew that there _were_ references to Nick, that didn’t do much for the case in general.

 

Anger seemed to radiate off Nick as he tossed the file back onto his desk and Hank didn’t blame the man. This case had been made personal really fast. Hank just hoped that Nick was strong enough to survive the strain of it.

 

**oOo**

“So, you’re telling me that we have nothing to go on?” Nick asked, annoyed at the truth of it.

 

He couldn’t believe that out of all the mess they had waded through yesterday, they have nothing to go off of except the grimm aspects and those weren’t really going to get him very far either. He’d spent all night in the trailer, hoping to find a reference to the G as well as rather detailed explanation of it all. By the time he’d left he still hadn’t found anything which meant that he was probably going to have to go back tonight and keep searching.

 

The very idea of going to the trailer for another all-nighter – he seemed to be pulling a lot of those lately – made him exhausted. It felt as though all the energy he’d gotten from drinking the coffee had just liquefied and seeped out of his muscles, leaving him little more than a pile of goo in his work chair.

 

“We’re still waiting for forensics to get back on us about the parts in the closet, but otherwise, yeah,” Hank said, rather unhelpfully.

 

Nick did his best not to glare at his partner. It wasn’t Hank’s fault that the killer – Nick suspected it was another grimm – was careful and knew how to cover their tracks so as not to get caught. He guessed that he didn’t do so good of a job of that when Hank held up his hands in the form of a ‘don’t blame me’ motion.

 

“Nick,” the Captain interrupted before more could be said. “Can I see you in my office?”

 

Knowing the request was little more than a command disguised as a question, Nick offered Hank a look and then got out of his chair and made his way into the Captain’s office.

 

The Captain waited until he’d limped in before closing the door and drawing the blinds. Clearly he didn’t want to be disturbed during this conversation. He walked over behind his desk but he remained standing and so, therefore, did Nick.

 

“Sit,” the Captain commanded this time. His tone brooked no argument or else Nick would have done just that. Still, he was nothing if not stubborn and so he remained standing long enough to see anger briefly flash through his boss’ green eyes before he complied and sat down in one of the hard chairs in front of the desk. He did his best to stifle a wince when his leg twinged but judging by the guilt that now filled the Captain’s expression, he didn’t do such a great job.

 

 _Let the man feel guilty,_ a snickering voice inside his head said. _It was a low blow last night and he knows it._

Nick ignored the voice, knowing that if he hadn’t attacked the man, he wouldn’t have been forced to retaliate. At the time it had seemed like a good idea. After all, he’d only wanted the Captain to stop talking and what better way to shut him up then to punch him, right?

 

 _You could have kissed him, that would have shut him up,_ another, more teasing, voice pointed out.

 

Nick told that one to shut up and vehemently denied even wanting to do that. Of course, it was a lie, but the only one that needed to know that was himself.

 

“How’s your leg?” the Captain asked, taking his seat once Nick had sat down. He leaned forward so that his arms rested upon his desk, his hands clasped together, making a loose fist. It was a posture he often used when he was relaxed yet slightly tense. Nick supposed that it was more that he wanted to _appear_ relaxed than that he actually _was_ relaxed.

 

“Fine,” Nick answered, almost slapping himself because his tone made it sound like a confused question rather than a definite thing.

 

Sean nodded to show that he’d heard. And when did Nick start suddenly calling him Sean?! It has always been and should always just be “the Captain”; never Sean. Still, he couldn’t help but roll the name around on his tongue a bit, seeing how it felt as he did so. He was surprised and annoyed to learn that it actually felt pretty good there.

 

What the hell was going on with him?! He should still be pining over Juliette, not thinking of his boss in desirable yet uncomfortable ways! Now, while he was still pining over her loss a bit, it had significantly reduced since the initial stage. He just now noticed that he didn’t really miss her anywhere near as much as he knew he should have and that bothered him. Not to mention that he absolutely should not be imagining kissing his boss, among other things. Maybe he should stop by the Spice Shop and talk to Rosalee about it. Maybe there was a hexenbieste-like reason for his reactions.

 

“I had hoped that I hadn’t caused any extra damage last night,” the Captain said, bringing Nick’s attention back to the present. The apologetic tone in his voice was dimmed by the hardness in his eyes and face. “I’m glad to hear that that is the case. You understand why I felt I had to do it, yes?”

 

And now Nick felt like he had been pulled into his parent’s study after doing something wrong. They liked to take him aside and explain precisely what he’d done wrong and why they’d acted as they had. Nick had to admit that he actually preferred that to what other kids’ parents did, which often bordered on abuse.

 

Still, given the thoughts and feelings he was having towards the man in front of him, the last thing Nick wanted was to feel like he was being given a lecture by a parent. The implications of that sentiment combining with his thoughts were just plain wrong.

 

Nick nodded his answer, unable to make his voice work. He knew that he should apologize for hitting Sean but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. More than a small part of him – the part that was still a child, longing for his parents – believed that the man had deserved the punch and would gladly do it again if given the chance.

 

“While we’re on the subject of understanding, why don’t you explain to me what you meant by your history with family,” Nick retorted.

 

The bite that would normally have been in his tone had he been talking to anyone else wasn’t there. Despite his curiosity and anger, Nick did still realize that this was his boss and that he could make Nick’s work life extremely unpleasant if he wasn’t careful. In trying to keep his tone more neutral than he felt, he actually managed to make it sound hard and cold. Well, it was better than the emotional rollercoaster that Nick felt himself currently traveling on.

 

The Captain, Sean, leaned back in his chair. The change in his posture screamed defensive and Nick found himself trying not to smirk at it.

 

_Good, let him be on the defense for once. It’ll be a nice change for him._

Just when Nick thought that Sean wasn’t going to answer, the Captain opened his mouth and the words he spoke struck Nick dumb.

 

“Your mother and aunt here a part of a task force that had been sent by my brother, Pierre, to kill my mother, my sister, and myself.”

 

Nick’s heart pounded wildly in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to even begin to understand how that could have been possible. Not from what he’d known of his mother and aunt while growing up. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that the two women that had raised him to be who he was were murderers-for-hire.

 

It hurt more than he liked to hear that declaration and so when he felt tears begin to form in his eyes, he blinked, cleared his throat and just tried to breathe.

Apparently seeing his struggle – and, really, how could the Captain _not_ see it? – Sean leaned forward so that he was once again supporting himself via his arms on the desk.

 

“Look, I’m sorry to just drop that on you but quite frankly I don’t have the time to pussyfoot around the subject. There’s a lot that you don’t know that you need to. Especially if you’re to survive in the game that my brother, apparently, has set up for you.”

 

_I’m sorry, what? What game? Sean has a brother? Why is he interested in Nick? What the hell is going on?!_

Across from him, Sean smirked. Had Nick said any of that out loud?

 

Before any more could be said, Nick’s phone rang, making him inwardly jump. Drawing in a deep breath and feeling as though he hadn’t done that in far too long, he shifted to dig his pocket out of his pants pocket. Monroe’s name flashed repeatedly on the screen. Wondering what had happened now, Nick answered it.

 

“Yeah.”

 

 _“Nick, I think you should come to the Spice Shop,”_ the blutblad said. Thankfully his voice didn’t hold anywhere near the same amount of panic it had the last time Monroe had called, telling Nick that it wasn’t too terribly dire. But still, there was some and that made his forehead wrinkle into a frown.

 

“Why? What’s goin on?” he asked, throwing a glance over at the Captain who was watching him with a very neutral stare.

 

_“Well, Rosalee and I were having some breakfast – well more like a mid-morning snack between friends, really – and we got to talking. Anyways, we both have noticed what we think is someone following us and if it’s who we think it is, we thought that you should probably know about it.”_

“Uh, huh, and why does this constitute me coming by?” Nick asked, a little confused as to why they thought that he should investigate when they were both capable of doing it.

 

There was a shuffling on the other end of the phone followed by muffled voices. Apparently the two wesen were arguing over something, though what it was, Nick couldn’t tell. A bell dinged in the background, alerting those within the back that someone else was in the shop and Nick heard Rosalee’s voice say something more before fading out completely.

 

 _“Look, it’s probably nothing, but, I thought it would be better to be safe than sorry, you know?”_ Monroe said, not actually answering Nick’s question.

 

“Monroe, what are you talking about?” Nick asked, still confused and growing steadily annoyed.

 

 _“We think there’s another grimm in Portland,”_ Monroe whispered into the phone, sounding as though he were afraid to say it too loudly in case the mere mention of another grimm would instantly make them appear in front of him.

 

Nick sighed. He wanted to tell the blutbad that he’d already thought of that but he didn’t want to say too much in front of the Captain. Blue eyes flicked over to meet concentrated green and Nick suddenly began to feel a bit uneasy about how much attention he was receiving from his boss.

 

“Alright, Hank and I will be over in about twenty,” he said, knowing that if he was going to go over there, he was going to bring Hank with him. As unsure as he was about involving his partner in all of this, now that he had, Nick wasn’t going to be keeping much else from the man if he could help it.

 

 _“Great! See you then,”_ the blutbad answered, sounding infinitely more cheerful than he had when he’d first called. Was Nick’s presence really that much of a necessity to the man?

 

“Yeah, see you then,” Nick said, hanging up before another word could be spoken by either of them. He focused back on Sean, his face morphing into a fake smile. “It seems there may be a lead on the case, after all.”

 

“Nick, you can’t run away from this,” Sean stated, expressing what he thought was really happening.

 

Either he hadn’t listened to Nick’s conversation as the grimm had believed him to be doing or he was perfectly happy playing ignorant. For all Nick knew it could have been both or neither. He was beginning not to underestimate the man sitting in front of him, which had probably begun to happen much too late but there was nothing for that now.

 

“I’m not,” Nick said, annoyed that the man thought so little of him. Nick was stronger and more stubborn than that. He got out of the chair, clenching his teeth to hide the pain it caused to do it. “I have a potential lead on the Rabe case that Hank and I need to look into.”

 

Sean remained impassive for a few seconds before he sighed.

 

“Very well,” he granted. “If you can control your emotions, why don’t we finish this conversation tonight at your place?”

 

Nick had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snapping at the man. Judging from the tone in which he took when speaking of Nick’s mother and aunt, Nick wasn’t the only one who needed to control his emotions and Sean knew it. Whether or not the Captain was going to admit it, however, was a different matter entirely. And since Nick didn’t have the time to get into that argument right now, he simply didn’t.

 

“Fine,” he granted with a sigh. “This time, if I’m not home when you get there, don’t let yourself in.”

 

Sean smirked but nodded his ascent.

 

Nick limped over to the door and just as he was about to walk out, the Captain said one more thing.

 

“Oh, and Nick?” When Nick pivoted to look at him, the man smiled a sly little smile. “Try to be on time this time.”

 

Knowing that one wasn’t necessary, Nick didn’t respond. He refrained – albeit barely – from rolling his eyes and exited, making his way over to the desk to grab his stuff.

 

“Come on,” he said to Hank when the man looked up at him with a curious expression on his face. “We might have a lead.”

 

He walked away before Hank could ask questions, leaving the man to simply follow him out. He’d answer Hank’s questions on the way when there weren’t any prying eyes or straining ears to butt in.

 

Unwillingly, his eyes slid over to the Captain’s office just before he left and he had to stop himself from reacting when he realized that the man was just watching him. There was a look in Sean’s green eyes that made him shiver with a feeling he wasn’t used to feeling when it came to men. It came awfully close to a primal need and Nick found himself answering that look with one of his own.

 

The action was minute, hardly noticeable, really, but the message was clear.

 

_Not gonna happen._

Nick could have sworn he heard a voice laughing inside his head as he entered the parking garage with Hank keeping pace beside him. He tried to ignore the words echoing throughout his brain, filling his ears with their taunting.

 

_You have no idea how wrong you are about that, my little grimm._

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter IVX**

Rosalee stared out the small window that framed the sink in the Spice Shop. Unlike Monroe, she hadn’t been fooled by the deceptively nice-looking day that had been shining in her bedroom window when she’d woken up. So it came as no surprise when clouds began filling the sky, threatening snow. She gave the menacing-looking pillows one more glance before she went to plug in the newly-filled pot of water.

 

When Monroe had first come in, carry a bag of something light for breakfast, he’d been quite relaxed and jovial. She’d smiled, trying not to laugh, as he’d stumbled out a reason for bringing her breakfast, realizing that he was trying to make it not sound like there was anything romantic in his reasonings. She truly didn’t mind being courted by him but it was fun to watch him squirm.

 

As the morning slowly progressed into the afternoon, Rosalee decided out that something was bothering the blutbad. Without coming out and asking him, however, she couldn’t figure out what it was and while she didn’t think she was wrong, she didn’t want to say anything in case she was wrong.

 

There was, however, something bothering her and so she’d brought up the subject. Lo and behold, they’d both had a similar experience, albeit at different times. After discussing it at length, they both had decided that they should call Nick.

 

Rosalee had to admit that she was still having trouble getting used to going to a grimm for help. While he’d been handling her brother’s murder, Nick had been sincere and professional, but she hadn’t trusted him as far as she could throw him. As time progressed and he showed time and time again that he could be trusted and that he was, essentially, one of the good guys, she’d warmed up to him; even begun to like him a little. Still, it was strange knowing just how tightly woven she had become in Nick and Monroe’s friendship and worlds.

 

To her shame, when Rosalee had been told of the grimm G that had appeared at the Rabes’ crime scene, her first thought had been that Nick had been playing them and had done it himself. It took her all of five minutes to not only decide that that was ludicrous but to berate herself for even thinking that. There was no way that Nick could have been hiding that darker side in himself and had _no one_ see it.

 

His reaction to the entire situation of having a good, albeit small, portion of the wesen in the shop, demanding his head, had only gone to prove that she had been, eventually, right. There was no way Nick had killed the Rabes and it was obvious to her that he was angry about their deaths. The anger had faded into something akin to devastation when Monroe had informed the grimm that the symbol had been created and used by his ancestors after having tortured and murdered innocent wesen. Obviously, Nick had come to the same conclusion that most of the wesen community had come to and he hadn’t liked the implications – there was another grimm in Portland, killing people; and they were doing it his name.

 

The teapot whistled that it was done and she went about shutting it off and grabbing the calming herbs she decided she and Monroe needed, placing them in homemade bags and then steeping them in two mugs.

 

While she went calmly about the place, Monroe was trying not to pace. She didn’t think that their similar encounters were what had been bothering him before but she did know that they had added to it, making him agitated and worried. Oddly enough, she didn’t think that he was worried for himself, but for her. And that made her smile and blush.

 

Monroe was one of a kind. It had confused her as to why a blutbad was helping a grimm. And, to a degree, it still confused her a little how the two men had become as good of friends as they were. But the fact of the matter was that, for some reason, Monroe had decided to help the baby grimm wade through the new world he’d just been forced into, and now he was there to stay – as far as he was concerned at any rate. For some reason, Nick brought out the protective and loyal side in the blutbad, while helping to keep the murderous one at bay. Mind you, Monroe generally did a fantastic job of that himself, but there were days when she could see red begin to invade his eyes but some activity from the grimm – more often a training session or some research for a case – and he calmed down enough to regain control.

 

Rosalee realized that she had a growing attraction to the blutbad and she honestly wasn’t sure what to do with that. There had been enough bad relationships, bad decisions made in the past that she wanted to be more than a little cautious. Not that she didn’t trust Monroe. No, she didn’t trust herself. She had a tendency to rush things without taking the time to fully get to know her potential boyfriend/mate/whatever and she had eventually ended up with the opposite of what she’d thought she’d had.

 

The next problem came in letting Monroe know that she was interested without being too obvious about it. She didn’t want to appear desperate when she really wasn’t but something told her that being blunt wasn’t necessarily the way to go about it, either. With a sigh she decided that it would probably have to wait until this whole wesen-murder-spree-thing was done.

 

The bell to the front door dinged, announcing someone’s arrival and the familiar sound of heavy boots immediately following told her that Nick, and Hank it sounded like, had arrived.

 

That was another thing that was throwing her off a bit. Hank knew. It wasn’t a big deal to her that Nick’s work partner knew about, well, everything. It was that she couldn’t gauge how he was handling all of it. A part of her believed that he could simply accept the situation and continue doing his job while acting like nothing at all had changed. But another part of her feared what would happen if he wasn’t able to handle everything. When Hank arrived behind Nick looking quite unfazed by everything that had transpired in the past day – well longer really, but that was a moot point – Rosalee decided that the ‘what ifs’ could wait until they actually happened. After all, they had bigger things to worry about right now.

 

“So, what’s this about?” Nick asked, never having really bothered with wasting time with greetings.

 

It must be the day for everyone to be off their game because not only was Monroe a bit on edge – which was quite unlike him – but Nick seemed to be a bit.. Well, Rosalee honestly couldn’t decide if he appeared more stressed or more frustrated. The stress she could somewhat understand, though it did feel like it was a bit premature given that there had only been three murders so far – though a lot more had been threatened. She was puzzled by the bothered frustration. She supposed that he could be frustrated by the seeming lack of anything to go off of, but somehow it just didn’t feel like that to her.

 

“Well good morning to you too, Nick,” Monroe quipped, always having been annoyed by the fact that Nick liked to get straight to the point.

 

It took a beat but eventually Nick forced a smile onto his face. “Yes, good morning Monroe, Rosalee,” he said. “Now, what’s this about?”

 

“We think there’s another grimm in town,” Rosalee answered, handing a mug of tea over to Monroe and then taking a sip of her own. She’d put a lower amount of herbs into hers since she was calmer about the whole situation than Monroe was, but it was enough to gently begin to ease the knots in her muscles and calm her heart enough for it to be a gentle patter.

 

Nick shifted a little, badly stifling a wince as he did so before leaning onto the workbench that separated him and Hank from her and Monroe. She idly noticed that as he leaned against the table, he lessened how much weight he was putting on his left leg and it concerned her a bit.

 

Since the source of his infection had come from the rather long cut on his calf, Rosalee had kept a close eye on it. She’d been surprised and intrigued by how quickly the injury had begun to heal after the infection had cleared – she’d even made a mental not to ask Bud’s wife for the recipe for the ointment she’d given Nick – but had continued to keep an eye on it just in case all was not what it had seemed.

 

However, Saturday had come and gone and Nick had seemed fine and she – with her very limited medical knowledge – had deemed Nick ready to return to work. She had warned him about stressing out the still healing muscle too much but it appeared that the grimm hadn’t listened as his limp had gone from getting lesser to truly noticeable by the time he’d left the shop yesterday afternoon. As she hadn’t really been paying attention to the rhythm of the footsteps, she honestly couldn’t say if the limp was worse or the same from yesterday but judging by his current stance, she would guess a bit worse.

 

“Yeah, I thought we established that yesterday,” Nick answered, unperturbed by the news.

 

“Wait, we did?” Hank asked, apparently not having caught that from the conversation yesterday. It didn’t really surprise Rosalee that he hadn’t deduced that. She had no doubt that Hank was a good detective, but he’d also been trying to process everything else he’d been told and had seen and so he might not have been listening very closely to some explanations.

 

“Dude, weren’t you here yesterday?” Monroe asked, not having understood how Hank couldn’t have already known that.

 

“Yeah, I was, but I had a few other things on my mind at the time,” Hank returned, spelling out what Rosalee had already known.

 

Nick moved so that he was no longer leaning on the table, facing his partner a bit more as he addressed the man.

 

“Apparently the G that had been drawn around Frank Rabe was a symbol my ancestors used long ago after they had finished killing a wesen,” he explained in a somewhat even tone. He pivoted a little, the motion looking painful for him, to address Monroe and Rosalee, “I still haven’t figured out what, specifically, that G meant.”

 

“You mean it wasn’t in one of your aunt’s books?” Monroe asked, apparently surprised by the fact. “Huh. I guess she figured it was a given that all who were looking at them probably already knew.”

 

Silence descended as Nick and Hank continued to stare at Monroe, waiting for an answer while Monroe completely spaced the fact that he should be giving them an answer and stood, slightly rocking from the tips of his toes to his heels with his hands in his pockets.

 

“Monroe,” Rosalee semi-whispered, giving the blutbad a slight push.

 

“What?” he asked. Then it dawned on him and he said, “Oh! Right. Have you ever heard of the Enderzeichen-Grimms?” He paused long enough to wait for the name to settle on everyone, walking around to grab a book from one of the shelves before he quickly continued. “Well, of course you haven’t otherwise you would be asking me. The Enderzeichen-Grimms were an order from the old world. They traveled to villages, lopping off heads, arms, testicles, anything, and then branded the symbol into their victims, marking their kills. It’s commonly referred to as the Sterbestunde, or the Hour of Death.”

 

As he talked, Monroe opened the book he’d gotten to a page with one of the Sterbestunde fairy tales. The text was old but well taken care of and there on the bottom right-hand page stood the grimm G. Both Nick and Hank stared down at it.

 

“You said it’s from the old world,” Hank said before Monroe could go into more history than was necessary, tearing his eyes away from the text that he, no doubt, couldn’t read. “Then how are they here?”

 

Rosalee had listened to the conversation with a distant focus. Like Monroe, she already knew about the Enderzeichen-Grimms and therefore didn’t need the history lesson. It left her free to watch Nick as he listened to the explanation. She watched as he patiently listened, his face revealing nothing as he did so. When Monroe had opened the book, she’d watched as the grimm had become mesmerized by the symbol. But instead of showing recognition or glee – which she suspected most grimms would have done – his blue eyes froze to ice in what she thought was anger.

 

“Just because something’s from the old world, doesn’t mean it’s died out,” Nick responded, his voice dead and cold as he continued to stare down at the page. He reached out a hand and started leafing through the book, his touch seeming gentle, nearing reverent. When he flipped back to the original page Monroe had opened it to, his finger traced the G as though Nick were trying to permanently burn the symbol into his mind.

 

“Exactly,” Monroe agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, if Nick’s not the one killing all these wesen-” At this, Nick looked up sharply but Monroe held his hand out in a ‘wait’ gesture. “Relax, Nick. I know you aren’t doing this. But if he isn’t, that means that another grimm is.”

 

“And do we know who?” Hank asked, apparently believing that they had all the answers.

 

“That’s why we called you down here,” Monroe answered, looking over at Nick who had closed the book and gone back to leaning on the work table. “We know it’s a woman.”

 

“How?” Nick asked. He straightened up and copied Monroe’s earlier pose of his arms over his chest.

 

“She’s following us,” Rosalee said, feeling that she could now jump in. Since he was a fountain of history, she was more than okay with letting Monroe take over the explanations with regards to that. However, when it came to the things happening in the present, Rosalee figured it’d be best if she did most of the talking.

 

“Following you,” Nick repeated, sounding still confused.

 

“Yeah, and she must have been doing it for some time because I don’t know how she knew where I lived,” Rosalee answered.

 

“She was at your house?” Nick asked, his confusion mixing with concern.

 

“Mine too,” Monroe added, not sounding too pleased about that at all.

 

This was the part, Rosalee knew, where the urgency in Monroe’s voice had come from during the telephone call.

 

“Nick, I think she’s tracking _you,_ ” Rosalee said. “You are the only thing that Monroe and I have in common and if she’s tracking you, then she’s going to visit every other wesen that you’ve ever met.”

 

The gravity of the situation was lost a little bit on Hank but Rosalee could tell that it wasn’t at all lost on Nick. His expression grew stony, closed off even, as he processed what they deduced and then it grew even harder as something seemed to register with him.

 

“That’s what the message meant,” he said. “Well,” he amended, “part of it anyways.”

 

“What do you mean?” Hank asked, not having connected the dots.

 

“That’s what she meant when she said that more will die,” Nick elaborated. He looked at Monroe first and then Rosalee and suddenly his meaning made sense to the two wesen.

 

“You think she’s going to go after us,” Rosalee said in realization.

 

“Not just us,” Monroe amended. “You think she’s going to go after all the wesen you’ve helped.”

 

“Nick, come on,” Hank scoffed, for whatever reason Rosalee couldn’t explain.

 

“Think about it, Hank,” Nick said. “The minus Monroe and the guy that kidnapped the little girl, the Rabes were the first wesen family that I met.”

 

“And instead of killing them like your ancestors would have done, you helped them,” Monroe added.

 

“Wait, so you think this new grimm is cleaning up your mess?” Hank asked, gesturing at Nick as he spoke. He sounded a bit incredulous as he said it, but if what Rosalee and Monroe had decided was right, then it wasn’t that far of a stretch. “But why?”

 

“Because,” Monroe said, drawing the end of the word out. “Weren’t you just listening? The grimms believed that all wesen were bad. They killed without remorse. It was a little weird, actually, how they’d let the wesen population grow big enough so that we wouldn’t go extinct but then go on a Sterbestunde sprees when they thought there was too many.”

 

“It’s almost like they enjoyed hunting you all down,” Nick said, finishing Monroe’s train of thought.

 

Disgust filled Nick’s voice, dropping it a decibel or two. It had been hard to hear what he’d said but even without understand what it had been, Rosalee could feel just how much the thought made him sick. It rolled off him in waves, knocking into her senses with brute force.

 

It didn’t seem fair that Nick was always being reminded of just how cruel and vicious his ancestors were. But the plain fact was that it was the truth and there wasn’t escaping any of it. She hated that they were constantly making him feel like a monster – or a monster’s bastard child, rather – but she also knew there wasn’t anything she could do to change it.

 

They all jumped about a mile into the air when Hank’s phone went off. The atmosphere seemed to change with the new distraction. Monroe appeared to be a little calmer – although that could have easily been the tea Rosalee had given him; Hank let out what sounded like a sigh of relief; and Nick seemed to break out of his gloomy stupor and return to his old self.

 

“Yeah, Griffin,” Hank answered. There was a pause in which he looked over at Nick and then said, “Hang on, let me put you on speaker.” He took the phone away from his ear and told Nick, “It’s Harper. She’s got the results for the body parts in the closet.”

 

“Woah, wait a minute,” Monroe said, recoiling a bit at the imagery. “What body parts in the closet?”

 

“We found some spare parts in one of the closets at the Rabes’ house,” Nick succinctly informed.

 

“Okay, when that call is done, you’re going to fill us in on the whole case,” Monroe stated, his tone brooking no argument.

 

Rosalee had to agree with Monroe. There was clearly more to the Frank Rabe murder than they – or the public – had been told. It was easy to understand why; obviously releasing all the details could worry the public more than was necessary or it mind hinder the investigation. But Rosalee also knew that as one of the barriers standing between the wesen community and Nick, she – and Monroe – had a right to know everything.

 

“Okay, go ahead,” Hank said after having placed his phone on speaker and setting it down on the work table.

 

 _“So, I got the results back from the random parts you sent in,”_ a woman’s voice said, calm and collected. Rosalee suspected the woman was a coroner judging from how steady she seemed about receiving body parts. _“They belonged to a pair of brothers that we booked a little under a year ago for kidnapping. T.B. and Jason Colbert.”_

 

The group looked at one another. Rosalee and Monroe had no idea what that meant or what the significance of that was but it appeared that Nick and Hank did. For the moment, it seemed, they were keeping their mouths shut and were intent on listening to what else the woman had to say.

 

_“There were also some fingers, toes, you know, random little parts, belonging to a Mr. Ephram Geiger, whom we booked shortly after we booked the two brothers for assaulting a police officer.”_

Nick seemed to pale at the news and though Rosalee didn’t know specifically why, she guessed that it was because this further proved that the new grimm was specifically targeting Nick and his previous cases.

 

A small bit of fear crept up Rosalee’s spine and settled into her stomach. She wasn’t used to feeling fear like this since she was a strong person and able to stand up to a lot. But the suggested idea that her life – and Monroe’s – could be in danger just because of their association – whether close or not – with Nick was worrying. Still, she kept a lid on her anxiety and made sure to appear calm on the outside. There was no sense in worrying Monroe any more than he already was.

 

Hank looked over at Nick when he’d heard what the woman had said and though no actual conversation took place, Rosalee could see one happening between the partners anyways.

 

“Okay, great, thanks,” Nick said somewhat into the phone. “Anything else?”

 

 _“Not so far,”_ the woman answered. _“If I find anything else, I’ll let you know.”_

“Okay, thanks Harper,” Hank said before picking up his phone and ending the call.

 

For a while everyone was silent. The two detectives seemed to be mulling over something in their minds, leaving Rosalee and Monroe to uncomfortably stare at them. Their introspection was cut short when Monroe – who had clearly run out of patience – said, “So, body parts?”

 

The two detectives looked at one another – with Hank silently conceding to Nick – before Nick turned to look at the two wesen. He gave a small sigh and began to explain.

 

**oOo**

Sean did as he was asked and kindly – albeit somewhat impatiently – lingered outside Nick’s home while he waited for the grimm to get home. Though they hadn’t officially set a time, Sean was early for their meeting and so shot off a couple emails to some contacts in Austria while he sat.

 

A flash of lights that nearly blinded him brought his attention to the street in time to see Nick pulling up to the curb outside the house. Sean found it curious that the grimm didn’t park in the driveway but he didn’t spend long on it since it was a trivial fact at best. Once Nick had climbed out, he did the same.

 

Much to his displeasure, Sean noted that Nick seemed far too tired than he should have been at this point of time in a case. The grimm’s exhaustion was no doubt attributed to his week of sickness as well as what little sleep the man had probably gotten the night before. Sean made a small note not to keep Nick up too late tonight in hopes that the younger man would actually get some rest without him there.

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t just break in like you did last night,” Nick quipped as Sean joined him on the sidewalk pavement.

 

“You asked me not to,” Sean stated.

 

“And you usually do what you’re asked,” Nick sarcastically – and a bit doubtfully – returned.

 

They walked up the walkway and then Nick unlocked the door, letting them both into the warm house. The door closed with a thud, followed by the jingle of keys hitting a ceramic bowl. Sean looked about the house, noticing just how much of Juliette was still present, before Nick grabbed his attention by walking by him and into the kitchen. The sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing echoed over to him where he remained standing in the entryway. Then Nick returned with two unopened beer bottles.

 

When he noticed that Sean hadn’t moved, Nick gave a wry chuckle.

 

“You just gonna stand there all night?” he asked as he sat down on the couch and laid his head back.

 

Right at that moment, Sean wanted nothing more than to go over to the grimm – his grimm – and soothe the man’s stress and tiredness away. However, not only would that be awkward and inappropriate at this stage of the game, but it would also be unwanted and would likely result in more uncomfortableness; so he remained where he was.

 

“You haven’t invited me in yet,” Sean replied, making it sound like it should have been obvious, though he gave a small smirk of teasing while he said it.

 

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed to meet in his the center of his forehead. “I thought the mere fact that I let you in the house meant that I was inviting you in,” he sarcastically answered.

 

Sean gave another smirk, this one more of a concession than mockery, and walked into the living room. He took off his overcoat and then sat down in the same chair that he’d occupied the night previous and proceeded to cross one leg over the other as he reclined slightly back, waiting for Nick to begin the conversation.

 

The grimm pulled a bottle opener out of his pocket and proceeded to open the two beer bottled he’d grabbed from the kitchen earlier, handing one over to Sean before taking a long draw off his own.

 

Unsure whether the man was merely trying to form his thoughts into coherent sentences or if he was waiting for Sean to begin, the regnant remained quiet and calm. He took a drink from his own beer, delighting in the taste of the foreign beer as the mixture settled onto his taste buds before he lowered the bottle back down to rest upon his lap.

 

Sean idly noted that there didn’t seem to be much background noise within the house as the two continued to sit in silence. No clocks appeared to be ticking and no cars idly drove down the street outside the windows. Used to the sound of the city as background noise, the regnant found this to be a bit unnerving, but he didn’t comment on it. The silence _was_ a bit comforting in its own right.

 

“So, you mentioned a game, as well as a brother that I didn’t even know you had,” Nick prompted after taking another sip of his beer. The day must not have been as long as yesterday had been since the grimm wasn’t currently trying to make it disappear in five seconds flat.

 

“Not many know of my family,” Sean pointed out, shifting to get into a more comfortable position. He used the sentence as a dismissal of Nick’s question regarding his brother, wanting the grimm to take the fact that Sean has a brother at face value and not spend more time on that particular subject. After all, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

 

“But yes, he is playing a game with you; although I believe toying with you would be a more accurate description.”

 

“You mean the other grimm in the city?” Nick asked, sitting a bit more upright as he became slightly more engaged in the conversation.

 

Sean nodded. He hadn’t actually known that there was another grimm in Portland but it did make sense and so it didn’t surprise him in the least to learn of it.

 

“Do you know who it is?” Nick asked, his expression going from tired to piqued.

 

“No,” Sean admitted while giving a slight shake of his head. “No, whoever it is has taken great pains to keep themselves hidden from me. But I assure you, if there is another grimm in this town, I will find them.”

 

“Monroe and Rosalee think it’s a woman,” Nick said, apparently having decided not to bother hiding too much from Sean, for which Sean was grateful but slightly mournful that he could not return the favor. “Apparently she’s been tracking them.”

 

“How do they know she’s a grimm?” Sean challenged, not really doubting the blutbad’s or the fuschbau’s instincts.

 

“I think they’re judging from the photos of the Frank Rabe crime scene,” Nick admitted with the barest hint of doubt in his voice. “But even so, I don’t think they’re wrong.”

 

“No,” Sean answered, his voice dropping in volume a little as he spoke. “I don’t think they are either.” He paused a second, allowing them both to take another drink of their beers, and then he continued, “You must be careful, Nick. If my brother has indeed sent the grimm then he plans to do more than discredit you. He plans to control you.”

 

“Control me? How?”

 

“Pierre has made many alliances while acting as the royal prince of Austria, and not all of them were established in Europe. It would be very easy for him to pile enough evidence against you to make it appear that you were guilty of the murders and then miraculously make it all go away while still holding it over your head to make you do whatever he wishes.”

 

There was enough truth in it to make it sound believable, but Sean doubted that was his brother’s play. Sean knew precisely what Pierre was after but Sean also knew that his brother wasn’t going to get his hands on Nick’s key unless he were no longer well enough to stop him. It was partly because Sean wanted the key for himself – and indeed he needed to get the others out of Pierre’s grasp – but it was also to protect Nick.

 

Sean viewed himself as the lesser of two evils and therefore believed that Nick would more readily agree to working for him – no, with him – than he would working for Pierre. Truthfully, he didn’t see the grimm working for any of the royal families without much fight – and more than likely, on Nick’s side at least, pain – but, again, Sean figured he’d be more willing to work for him. Again, not without pain or a fight.

 

Nick rose an eyebrow, silently doubting what Sean was saying while not saying anything at all.

 

“Believe me, Nick,” Sean said, hoping to put the grimm on his guard. “There are easier ways to control a person than to use torture. But also believe me when I tell you that Pierre will have no qualms about kidnapping you and breaking you if it comes to that.”

 

“And what are you planning on doing with me, sir?” Nick challenged, belatedly adding the ‘sir’ on at the end.

 

If it hadn’t have been for the near-hostile tone in Nick’s voice, Sean would have thought that the grimm meant something else entirely. Thankfully, he had heard the chill and had recognized it for what it was, otherwise Sean wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to keep his body from reacting, even if in a small way.

 

Sean didn’t even blink as he answered, “I’m hoping that you will make the right decisions for yourself and come to trust me in your own – soon – time.”

 

“And if I don’t, you’ll make them for me,” Nick filled in with a wry smirk, not needing to actually hear it to know the ending of Sean’s sentence. Perhaps it was just the exhaustion but he looked rather calm for a man who was being threatened on more than just one side.

 

Deciding that it was best to remain silent in order to evoke deniability later, Sean opted for a last swig of beer. He set the half-empty bottle down on top of the wooden coffee table and stood up.

 

“I’m sure you’ll have questions along the way,” he said as he put his overcoat back on. “And if your friend Monroe can’t answer them, please know that you can come to me with them. For now, you it’s late and you need rest.”

 

Nick gave another, cold, smirk, “I didn’t realize you cared.”

 

“Never mistake professional stoicism for uncaring,” Sean corrected with just enough bite in his tone to let the other man know that he was serious. When Nick didn’t respond and merely stared at him, letting the words sink in, Sean nodded, satisfied. “Have a good night, Nick,” he bid, swiftly closing the door behind him.

 

Just as he got to his SUV, he had the feeling that he was being watched. It didn’t take him long to spot the woman dressed in all black, standing just outside of the streetlight’s glare across the street and down a ways. Having no doubt that this was the grimm that Nick had told him about, Sean allowed enough of his regnant side to come out, showing her precisely who she was dealing with, before he climbed into his truck and began to head home.

 

Tomorrow, Sean would send word via the underground about another grimm in Portland. He doubted it would take much longer than an hour or two before he heard anything back and then he’d hunt out the woman and determine exactly what she was up to.

 

Nick didn’t really need him looking out for him as much as he was, but that didn’t mean that Sean would ever stop trying.

 

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter XV**

 

The sun blinked playfully through the trees outside Nick's window. It woke him as it flashed against his closed eyes, sending unknown messages through his retinas. Giving a slight groan, Nick rolled over so that his back was to the window but then his brain received the signals coming from the sun and decided it was time to be awake. Once he’d convinced his eyes to actually open, Nick looked over at his phone, checking the time and finding it to be nearly nine a.m. Wow! He must have been _really_ tired to have actually slept in.

 

It took Nick another few minutes of simply lying in bed before he was able to convince his body to get moving and get up, but once he did, he was grateful for the extra sleep. Today was the first day he’s woken up feeling like he’d actually slept in…well, since Juliette left, he supposed.

 

He shuffled over to the bathroom to take care of business and then he went down to make some coffee. He could hear Monroe in his head, lecturing him about needing to eat more in the morning but, honestly, Nick just wasn’t ever really hungry enough in the mornings to worry about it. All he really needed was coffee and he was good.

 

While the coffee brewed, Nick looked out the kitchen window, shivering a little when he felt the chill coming from it. The day was, not surprisingly, bright and sunny, but cold, if the window temperature was anything to go by. There was a slight breeze but it didn’t appear to be in danger of becoming actual wind and there weren’t any clouds to be seen from where Nick was standing. All in all, it promised to be a beautiful day.

 

It had been a week and a half since the day he and Hank had gotten called in on the Frank Rabe murder case and the weather had begun to turn steadily colder with the approach of Thanksgiving. Nick and Hank had spent the first few days after that Monday, hunting down whatever leads they could but they’d come up empty. After Nick’s talk with the Captain, he hadn’t been surprised that there was nothing to find. After all, the new grimm was being very careful to avoid being caught – whether by Sean or the police.

 

Since then there hadn’t been any signs of the new grimm anywhere. Both Monroe and Rosalee hadn’t reported any new sightings of their stalker and there hadn’t been any new killings – a fact which irked Hank a bit more than his partner was letting on. Not that Hank, or Nick for that matter, wanted anyone else killed. It was just that killers tended to mess up the more they did, making it easier for them to be caught.

 

There also hadn’t been much contact with the Captain – Sean – which, much to Nick’s annoyance, bothered him. Though they _had_ talked about a few things that night at his house, they hadn’t talked about nearly as much as he would have liked – specifically how Nick’s mother and aunt had been a part of the task force to eliminate Sean, his mother, and sister – but since then, there hadn’t really been much of a chance to bring it up as the Captain seemed to be avoiding Nick as much as possible lately. He thought about asking Monroe since the blutbad seemed to know so much about not only royals but history, but it seemed best to just wait and talk to Sean about it.

 

Unfortunately, that talk would have to wait another couple days as Nick had the day before and the day of Thanksgiving – surprisingly – off. With the rest of the day open to him, he began to make plans for what he was going to do. He needed to stop by the market and grab a few things for tomorrow – they were all meeting at Nick’s house since he had the space for them all – but so far that was the only thing Nick could come up with that he absolutely needed to do.

 

 _Why not get out and go for a bike ride in the mountains,_ his more healthy side suggested, making Nick raise his eyebrows at the idea and then agree that that did sound good.

 

In the two weeks since his fight with the reapers, Nick’s leg had healed completely. He’d had trouble with it the first couple of days and his and Sean’s fight, but with the help of Bud’s miracle goo, it had soon felt better and he now had no troubles with it. There was still the scar to contend with but Nick knew that, all in all, he was very lucky as it could have been _so_ much worse.

 

Just as he decided to sit and finish his coffee first, his phone rang. Digging the device out of his pocket, Nick pulled it out and frowned when Juliette’s name and picture flashed on the screen.

 

“Hello?” he answered, confused about why she was calling.

 

 _“Hey,”_ Juliette answered. It sounded as though she were trying to be casual about randomly calling him but Nick could hear the nerves within her voice.

 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. He had trouble keeping the nervousness out of his voice as he spoke and it made him wince a little.

 

No matter how things were or had been between the two of them, they’d always been able to talk to one another without awkwardness. It hadn’t mattered if they were in the middle of a fight – severe or not – or if they were both just having bad days and were grumpy, they’d always been able to say whatever was on their minds and their conversations about regular stuff had been normal; sans, perhaps, the light banter and joking they would have usually thrown in.

 

But now, with their breakup, things felt weird. They felt uncomfortable and Nick didn’t like it.

 

 _“Well, I was wondering if you were going to be home today,”_ she answered, her words breathing a bit of hope into Nick’s chest.

 

“Well, I did have some errands to run, but otherwise, yeah, I’ll be home. Why?” Nick got off the couch and walked into the kitchen, putting his empty coffee mug in the sink before leaning against the counter.

 

 _“I was thinking of dropping by and grabbing some more of my stuff,”_ she answered. And just like that, the hope died, leaving him feeling cold and stung over the break-up all over again. _“I found an apartment and so I have a bit more room than I did when I’d left.”_

Nick nodded his understanding but upon realizing that she couldn’t actually see him, he cleared his throat, his voice feeling like it may not even register through the phone.

 

“Yeah, um, did you want me to be home when you came or would you prefer to do it when I’m not here?”

 

God how he hated asking that. The thought that she didn’t want to be around him hurt. It made his heart hurt and the pain threatened to bring tears to his eyes. Blinking them furiously back, Nick straightened up, refusing to cry over the situation any more than he already had.

 

 _“No! No, you can be home,”_ she answered, sounding embarrassed by what he’d taken from her question. _“In fact, I wanted you to be home. It would have felt wrong, somehow, to come in while you weren’t there and just take stuff out of the house. I would have felt like a thief.”_

“Why? It’s your stuff,” Nick pointed out, thoroughly understanding how she felt. He probably would have thought he’d been robbed if she’d come by without even telling him and grabbed her things.

 

_“No, I know. It’s just…I dunno, it just felt wrong.”_

Nick nodded, again forgetting that she couldn’t see him. “Well, I’ll be home later on this evening if you want to come by then,” he suggested, gauging how long it would take him to run to the store and go for a bike ride.

 

_“Okay, great. Um, shall we say about five?”_

The relief in her voice was palpable but Nick chose not to comment on it since his own was probably just as easily heard.

 

Nick took the phone away from his ear to check the time. It was just turning ten a.m. now. It would probably take him about an hour to get ready, loaded and to the mountains, giving him a few hours to actually ride. Another hour to come home, unload and shower and then another – hopefully – hour to go to the market and come home. That all would land him at four p.m.

 

“Yeah, five should work,” he said after calculating it all in his head.

 

_“Okay, I’ll see you then.”_

“Yeah, see you then.”

 

They both seemed to hang up at the same time. Nick sighed, a bit worn out from acting like he was perfectly fine with his ex-girlfriend-hopefully-turned-fiancée calling him to come and move the rest of her things out of the house that they had once shared.

 

He took another minute to deflate a little from the phone call then he gathered his energy and went upstairs to get changed into something warmer for the bike ride. It didn’t take him long to brush his teeth and change and soon he was back down in the kitchen, filling his water bottle to the brim. He grabbed his bike from the small shed out in the back and loaded it into his truck, making sure to load the air pump and an extra sweater just in case something happened.

 

With a sigh of relief, Nick headed in the direction of the McKenzie River Trail.

 

**oOo**

Night was just beginning to ascend when Nick returned home from the store with a store-bought pumpkin pie and some canned whipped cream. Monroe will probably scoff at the desert but if he expected more from Nick _or_ Hank then he didn’t know either of them very well. Well, he _didn’t_ know Hank all that well but he should know Nick well enough by now to know that he doesn’t really cook and he definitely doesn’t bake.

 

His bike ride had been nothing short of glorious. It had allowed him to work out his frustration and the stress that had built and then dropped into his stomach like a stone when it had stopped. Nick hadn’t realized just how much he’d needed the exertion until he’d begun and then he’d had trouble stopping in time to make sure he would be home in time for Juliette to come by. His training sessions with Monroe were spread out at best thanks to the demands of their jobs – shocking that Monroe’s job was demanding – and they couldn’t always spare the time to meet up.

 

He’d come home just in time to change and hope he didn’t smell too badly while he ran to the store.

 

His truck pulled up to the curb just outside the house, stopping earlier than usual since there was a small U-Haul truck parked in his original place. Figuring that it was Juliette, Nick got out the truck and walked to the front door. On his way, he paused by the truck’s front door to let Juliette accompany him along the way.

 

Neither one said anything as they climbed the porch stairs or while Nick unlocked the door and let both of them in. He wanted to ask her why she hadn’t just used her key to get in but he figured that she was just uncomfortable overall with being back at the house and so he didn’t.

 

“So, how much do you plan on taking?” he asked as he closed the door and put his keys in the little ceramic bowl.

 

“Just what’s mine,” she vaguely answered. Apparently she didn’t realize that he didn’t remember what was hers and what wasn’t.

 

“Okay,” he answered. He somehow doubted that there was a point in telling her that he didn’t remember and so he put the pie and whipped cream into the refrigerator and then came back into the entryway where she still stood, looking small and nervous. “Well, I’m going to take a shower. Did you need any help moving the big stuff?”

 

Juliette fidgeted a little, toying with a piece of string from her coat that had become loose. She looked around for a bit, perhaps calculating all that she would take, and then answered, “Yeah, probably. I have some boxes in the truck; I’ll pack those first and then wait for you before I start moving the furniture?”

 

“Sounds good,” Nick answered with a small nod and an even smaller smile.

 

He wanted to assure her that he would help her move but he found trouble putting much feeling behind it since he didn’t actually want her to leave. The house had felt cold and empty these past few weeks; he couldn’t imagine how much colder and emptier it would get once she moved her furniture out.

 

Without saying anything more, Nick escaped upstairs to get cleaned up. It was probably a wasted effort since he was just going to sweat a bit, helping her move, but he wanted to use the time to be alone for a bit.

 

 _Give it an hour and you will be alone,_ a rather snide voice taunted in his head.

 

He ignored the voice, angrily turning on the shower. He let the water warm up while he stripped and tossed his clothes in the hamper. By the time he was finished, steam was filling the bathroom. He switched the nozzle so that the water went from the tub spout to the shower head and then climbed in, wishing he could stay in there forever. Maybe if he stayed in there long enough, the water would wash away the past three weeks.

 

**oOo**

Juliette watched as Nick jogged up the stairs to shower and change with sad eyes. She knew that part of the reason he wanted a shower so badly was to escape her presence and it broke her heart.

 

She’d spent the past three weeks in one of her friend’s spare bedrooms, working and thinking. Every once in a while she’d have a girl’s night but for the most part, she wasn’t feeling it. One time, when she was feeling really low, Shaena, Julie, and Meighan had come over – well, Shaena and Julie had; it was Meighan’s apartment after all – and had just climbed into the queen-sized bed and cuddled with her while she’d silently cried. She had no doubt that they would have gladly started bashing Nick if she’d started it but they knew that it hadn’t all been his fault and so said nothing.

 

Throughout all her time thinking, Juliette had been trying to reconcile herself to what all Nick had told her. Her rational mind said that he was insane and should probably get some help. But her heart wanted so badly to believe him. Still, if he truly was the only one – the only human, at least – who could see them, how could he ever prove to her that he was telling the truth?

 

These thoughts, along with other, more unkind ones, had been running wildly through her head like a hamster on a wheel. No matter how much she thought, however, she couldn’t seem to make herself believe everything that had been said. She loved Nick but the past has taught her to trust her head a lot more than her heart and so that was what she’d ended up going with.

 

Still, that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to remain friends with him. She just wasn’t sure either one of their hearts could handle it.

 

Once the shower started running, she went back outside and grabbed the boxes. She had a few knick-knacks that would need packaging up as well as the dishes – Nick had his own, mismatched set in the shed out back – and some of the cookware. The bigger stuff, like the couch she’d owned before moving in with Nick as well as the armchair that remained upstairs in their bedroom, would have to wait for Nick before it could be moved.

 

She got to work, efficiently packing all her things away in easily moveable boxes. Along with the stuff from the kitchen and the knick-knacks, she took a few of the spare blankets, leaving the quilt that a newfound friend’s wife had made for them as well as the basket one of the bushels of apples – which now held their spare blankets – behind. She also took a few of the throw pillows, and all the pictures that contained her with friends and left all the ones of Nick and her – except the one of them kissing and the Decker’s party; that one was being stowed away inside one of the blankets for safe-keeping and secrecy – where they sat.

 

Juliette looked around once she had finished. It was now she realized just how much they’d gathered while they’d been living together as a lot of it had been left inside the house.

 

 _Good,_ she thought, giving an inward head-nod of satisfaction. _I don’t want to take too much from Nick. I’ve already taken enough._

Well that was a gloomy thought. And it hadn’t been all her fault, either. Though, she granted, it had been most of her fault. Still, now was not the time to linger on the past. She’d just packed all of the past that she cared to reflect on and planned on making it – well, parts of it at least – into her future.

 

Heavy footfalls on the stairs told her that Nick had finished his shower and was coming down to help. Her breath briefly caught in her throat when the smell of his body wash wafted to her nose and he appeared looking a bit wet but clean. She wasn’t sure how but the scent of his soap always had the effect of making her crave being near him. Most of the time it was just cuddling on the couch, enjoying the scent, but sometimes it had ended up being more. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes when she realized that that would never happen again.

 

To hide her sadness, Juliette turned away from him, finishing up with the last box via applying the tape and writing on top of it what was inside.

 

“Perfect timing,” she said with false cheer as she turned back around and offered a smile that barely lit her eyes. “I’ve just finished with the boxes and am ready to move the furniture.”

 

He returned her dim smile.

 

“Great,” he said, unable to hide how not great he was finding the whole thing. “Where do we start?”

 

**oOo**

It took a little under an hour for her and Nick to get everything into the truck. They started by getting the armchair from the bedroom downstairs and then they grabbed the couch and hauled it outside. After they got the armchair into the truck, Nick grabbed the boxes and started loading them by himself. Juliette worried about his back but she didn’t say it since she doubted he wanted to hear anything about it.

 

While Nick worked on the few boxes she’d packed, Juliette wandered around, checking to make sure she’d grabbed all that she’d cared to. In her head she checked off certain items that she’d wanted to make sure that she’d get. With those taken care of, she moved on to basic items that she didn’t really want to buy or that she hasn’t already bought. With that list taken care of, Juliette proceeded to stand awkwardly in what used to be her living room.

 

“Is that all of it?” Nick asked, announcing his return. He pivoted a little to look around the house as though he could spot something that she hadn’t. Juliette watched his face go from carefully neutral to coldly sad. “You didn’t want any of the pictures?”

 

Ah, yes, the pictures. Of course he’d notice that she wasn’t taking any of them _before_ she’d left. She had been hoping not to have to see the heartbroken look on his face when she told him, in no uncertain terms, that she really didn’t want to be reminded of what they used to have because it’s not like he did either.

 

“No, I’m good,” she assured, her cheeks reddening a little as she looked anywhere else but his face. “You’re going to want to get your dishes and cookware from the shed,” she informed. “I took the sets that were in the kitchen.”

 

Nick nodded to show that he’d heard and then bent his head as well, no doubt to hide his emotions from her. When he looked back up, it appeared that he had his composure again. “Did you take any of the appliances?”

 

  “Yeah, I took the mixer since you don’t do a lot of cooking. But that was it. I figured you use the coffee maker more than I do so I left that here.”

 

“Thanks,” Nick said, giving a small smile. He sighed and then looked around once more. “You left me a lot.”

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have that much room in my apartment and most of this stuff we got when we were together, so…”

 

And there she went again, reminding him that she didn’t want to be reminded of him. God, she felt like a monster.

 

Nick gave a smirk full of mirth that and it broke her heart. The emotion that took over this time was not the usual sadness or heartbreak; it was anger. It was a nice change but Juliette really wasn’t in the mood for a fight and so she waited for a minute to see if he would calm down. As expected, after about sixty seconds, his face went carefully blank again.

 

“Well,” Juliette practically whispered as she too looked around the house. It was hard not to attempt to commit everything to memory; as though doing so would somehow keep their feelings for one another and the relationship they once shared alive. “I should go.”

 

“Right,” Nick said, almost equally as quiet. He cleared his throat, “Do you want me to walk you out?”

 

“No,” Juliette answered with a smile. That was Nick, always trying to be so chivalrous. At least with her. “No, I’m good.”

 

She walked across the living room and skirted around him, doing her best not to take as big a breath as she could manage when she passed him to commit that to memory as well, and opened the front door. With the night came the colder temperatures and Juliette found herself shivering from the change.

 

As a last-ditch effort, and before she could change her mind, she turned around.

 

“I don’t like how awkward things are between us,” she announced, inwardly knowing that it was all her fault. Nick’s expression remained neutral but she saw something flash in his eyes that practically yelled, _Shouldn’t have left, then._ Ignoring it, she pushed on. “I want us to be friends.”

 

“Even though you think I’m crazy?” he returned, not quite able to keep the bite out of his voice.

 

Not knowing how to answer that, Juliette said nothing. It was true that she did wonder about his sanity but someone like Nick was hard to find and just maybe, if they stayed connected they could get back together; after Nick got some help, of course.

 

Nick gave a bitter smile.

 

“Good night, Juliette,” Nick said, practically dismissing her.

 

Whether he could recognize when things were over, or maybe he found it easier to simply give her up entirely, she didn’t know. But what she did know was that saying those three words with such a careless tone had cost both of them. She could see the hurt it was causing him. It was almost as though he were mirroring her; her hurts expressed on his face. In a way, she supposed they were. The only difference was that they were his hurts as well.

 

Juliette ducked her head to hide a tear that had chosen to fall.

 

So that was that, was it? Well, she didn’t know if it would be enough for her or for him but she guessed that it had to be. With a note of finality, she sighed. So be it.

 

Unable to help herself, she stepped forward and gave him one last kiss. In it she poured her longing, her love, and her apologies as well as her goodbye. And he returned all of it with unparalleled measure. Juliette felt his breath catch in his chest and the wetness on his beautiful cheeks as she pressed her face to his told her that he’d been silently crying just as she had.  

 

Unwilling to stop for air, she continued until she could no longer fight the urge to breathe. They both panted when she withdrew, their bodies needing the air it was finally being given.

 

Juliette hurried out of the door, knowing that if she didn’t run out now, she wouldn’t be able to make herself ever leave entirely. She climbed into the cold truck and slammed the door. It was here she let her tears fully fall, raining down her cheeks like a Portland rainstorm.

 

The truck started with little effort and soon she was pulling away from the curb. As she turned the corner, she got one last look at the house that she had once lived in and she imagined Nick watching her drive away from an unseen window. Pulling out of sight, she whispered the last words she would ever speak to Nick Burkhardt.

 

“Good bye.”

 

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m giving y’all fair warning – I’m pretty much changing Kelly Burkhardt’s history entirely. Sorry if you don’t like it but that’s the way it all shaped up and came out. 
> 
> And I’m adding to Hank’s since I don’t really know much about his..

**Chapter XVI**

Sean Renard did not consider himself a good man. He was no Pierre but his hands certainly weren’t stain-free either. But he did think himself fair which is why he was currently traipsing through long-forgotten underground tunnels that weaved throughout Portland. He’d been sitting in his office when he’d received a text from Chandi saying that she had found the female grimm. She’d then sent along an address where said grimm could be found with a warning for him to be careful. As it was the day before Thanksgiving and most of the officers had been shocked when he’d stayed until it was dark anyways, no one either questioned or noticed when he’d left, allowing him to escape through one of the back entrances to the tunnels in the parking garage.

 

He stopped as a familiar yet strange smell hit his nose. It was just enough like Nick to get his attention but feminine enough to tell him that it wasn’t the object of his desires. Knowing precisely what that meant, Sean’s eyes glowed a blood-red so deep it could have been black as his anger began to rise. An inhuman growl escaped out of his chest and he bared his slowly elongating teeth just for good measure.

 

“I was wondering how long it would take you to find me,” a female voice stated inflectionless.

 

A figure melted out of the stone walls and there stood Kelly Burkhardt. She looked older from the last time he’d seen her and it seemed she’d acquired a few more scars in her years on the run but there was no mistaking her, even if he hadn’t known Nick’s scent. She wore all black complete with a black cloak-like coat and a hood over her frizzy dark brown hair.

 

“I would ask if you’ve come to finish the job but I already know that you’ve got your eye on a much bigger prize,” Sean answered, doing his best to reign in his temper. It wouldn’t do him any favors to lose it right now and end up killing her. Nick may, in the future, forgive him for killing his aunt but he wouldn’t forgive him for killing his mother before he’d gotten the chance to reconnect with her.

 

Kelly raised her head the slightest bit, jutting her chin out ever so slightly. It was all the emotion she’d allow herself to show in his presence but it was enough to let him know that he’d touched a nerve.

 

“I don’t doubt that you think you’re showing him the error of his ways,” Sean continued when the silence persisted. He made an effort to relax his shoulders and put his hands in his pants pockets, knowing that he could read her that easily, she could most definitely read him. “But going after those he’s helped and, more importantly, his friends won’t win you any trust with him.”

 

“Blutbadden are not friends,” Kelly scoffed, easily controlling the disgust she felt at the idea of her son, a grimm, being friends with a blutbad.

 

“Well, I’m sure it’s hard to have any friends when you persist in killing them,” Sean easily returned. He then smirked. “Or at least you try to.”

 

Sean couldn’t tell whether Kelly fought the urge to roll her eyes and scoff, the flash of anger that could have easily brightened her eyes, or the pang of longing that no doubt had gone through her heart. In the end, he supposed, it didn’t matter because she was obviously fighting some form of emotion and he couldn’t really care less what it was.

 

“I would point out that you and I had been much more than friends but there wouldn’t be a point so I won’t bother,” she answered just as smoothly and sounding just as completely uninterested as he had. “What I will say is that, when the time had come, it had been my honor to be tasked with killing you, your sister, and your whore of a mother.”

 

He knew that she was just trying to get a rise out of him and he had to admit that it was working a little, despite his best efforts. The regnant within rose to the challenge and begged to be let out to accept it. But Sean hadn’t gotten to where he was by being rash and impulsive and so he kept a tight leash on the animal, cooing it into submission with a promise of a hunt later.

 

Instead of the snarl that so desperately wanted to come out, Sean smirked instead.

 

“Yes, well, we both know how that had eventually turned out, don’t we?”

 

His cold smirk brightened into a small smile as he remembered that night. Not only had it been the last time that they’d had sex – albeit great sex – but it had ended with Kelly grabbing her betrothed – which had most definitely not been Sean – and her sister and running for her life, something that had become both worth a great deal and yet worth nothing at all at the same time. Sean knew that she’d learned that night that when you’re assigned with a mission, you carry it out no matter what the cost because the royal families don’t play, they win, no matter which side you’re on.

 

This time Kelly did actually scowl. It was obvious she didn’t like being reminded of her failures and that only made Sean smile more. Speaking of failures…

 

Sean stepped closer to her, inhaling deeply as he went. He felt Kelly tense as he got closer, ready for a fight, but he didn’t have any plans on fighting her. Not yet at any rate. He’d give her a chance to leave the city, leave Nick for good, first. After that, it was out of his hands.

 

“I’ll give you one chance,” he said as he came to a stop mere inches from her face. He hoped that she could feel his power from where she stood but he couldn’t be certain. Her eyes gave nothing away except her curiosity as well as her barely disguised amusement that he was trying to intimidate her. Apparently, he hadn’t been the only one to get colder since their last meeting. “Leave Portland now and never return.”

 

“And if I don’t?” she challenged not skipping a beat or flinching. “You going to send your hexenbiest trash after me again?”

 

“No,” Sean denied. “I’ll come after you myself.”

 

“And what would Nick say to his betrothed killing his mother?”

 

Sean didn’t react at the fact that she’d found out about the bond, but she smirked anyways, knowing that she had caught him off guard.

 

“You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

 

“What I have or haven’t said to Nick is none of your concern,” Sean said, choosing not to comment on anything regarding Nick or himself. “Except perhaps this – he knows that you didn’t die in the car crash that killed his father.”

 

“I’ll bet that shocked him,” Kelly scoffed, apparently not caring.

 

Sean assented that it had. “As did this, he also knows that you and your aunt tried to kill me. Now, granted he doesn’t know any of the particulars yet but it was enough to convince him that you’re the one killing the wesen and he’s on the hunt for you.”

 

“Apparently not very hard,” Kelly commented, scoffing a bit more as well as grumbling a bit.

 

“Give him time,” Sean said, knowing that she was disappointed in her son for not having found her yet. “He’s still learning.” He paused a bit, choosing to turn around and walk away a bit to show that he was finished with the conversation. When he stopped, he turned around, and then he added, “Besides, he’s still reeling from everything I’ve told him so far and what he’s learned on his own. Once he’s processed all that, he will hunt for you in earnest, and believe me when I say that he will find you quicker than I did, and far easier as well.”

 

Kelly cocked her head to the side. “Why?” she asked. “Because he’s a cop?”

 

“No, because he has friends, and they know how to hunt.”

 

**oOo**

As per his routine, Monroe woke before the sun. He did so willingly so that he could do his pilates before he got everything he needed prepped for Thanksgiving today. On top of preparing a lot of the sides and, he suspected, the desserts, Monroe also wanted to prepare the bread. It was going to be a lot of cooking and baking but he didn’t mind; in fact, he enjoyed it. It gave him something to do besides work to keep his mind of the fact that he was going to see Rosalee again today. Sure, he was happy to see Nick too, but it was really Rosalee he wanted to spend time with.

 

After finishing his pilates and taking a shower, Monroe dressed in a raggedy shirt and stained jeans. Since he was just going to get covered in flour and Lord only knows what else, the blutbad didn’t see the point in dressing in anything nicer until he was ready to leave. He, Rosalee, and Hank had all agreed to meet at Nick’s around two p.m., leaving him six hours to prepare all the food that he needed as well as making sure that he looked presentable for the lunch/dinner itself.

 

When he stepped into his kitchen, the sun had just finished rising. It did its best to peer through the heavy clouds that filled the Portland sky but no matter how hard it tried, it just couldn’t do it. Guessing that it was going to be a relatively cloudy, if not dark, day, Monroe turned the kitchen light on and set to work. He started with the bread, using the kneading portion of the bread-making to get in some extra muscle work as he activated the yeast within the dough. Once he started that rising, he pulled out the mixer and began making three pie crusts.

 

Although he’d assigned the desserts to Hank and Nick, Monroe guessed that it would be good for him to also make an apple, pecan, and pumpkin pie. Hank and Nick were fantastic cops but they were bachelors. Sure, Nick’s was a bit recent but that didn’t make the statement any less true; especially given that Juliette usually did all the baking and cooking when they’d been together. So, trusting either man to actually create a dessert from scratch – or at all, really – was wishful thinking at best, and there was no way Monroe was going to allow one of the store-bought pieces of garbage to touch his tongue.

 

With the pie crusts baking in the oven, he began to peel, core and slice three granny smith apples. Once they were sprinkled with a bit of lemon juice to preserve color and the liquid part of the filling was cooking on the stovetop, he then took the pumpkin that he’d de-seeded and oven-roasted last night and began to scoop the filling out of it. He hated using the canned puree if he could help it so he was glad that pumpkins always seemed to be on sale up until Christmas. It gave him a chance to make good, from scratch pumpkin pie.

 

He balanced throwing together the apple pie, the pumpkin pie and beginning the pecan pie quite well. That was until his doorbell rang. He stopped, wooden spoon still in the saucepan full of pecan pie filling, and stared at the door. Instinctively, he inhaled to see who it was and found his heart rate speeding up when he smelled fuchsbau; more specifically, Rosalee.

 

As quickly as he could, Monroe dropped everything and went to open the door. It was only once he’d gotten said door open and he saw her smiling face that he remembered that he had things cooking and that they would more than likely burn if he didn’t go back to them.

 

“Monroe?” she called when he’d immediately spun around and gone back to the kitchen, embarrassingly leaving her on the doorstep.

 

It took him all of thirty seconds to take everything off the heat and out of the oven and then he was back at the door.

 

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to silently invite her in. “Sorry about that, I had some things in the oven and I didn’t want them burning.”

 

She smiled at him, looking relieved but still a bit awkward as well.

 

“Can I take your coat?” he asked, his manners coming out before they could escape him again.

 

“Yes, thank you,” she said, peeling off the jacket and handing it over. While he hung the coat up, he heard her inhale deeply. “Mm, it smells wonderful in here. What are you making?”

 

“Oh, you like it?” he asked, delighted that she thought it smelled good. “I thought I’d make some pies for this afternoon,” he said, leading her into the kitchen so that he could start assembling said pies completely. “Apple, pecan, and pumpkin.”

 

“I thought Nick and Hank were supposed to get the dessert?” she said as she followed behind.

 

“Yeah but they’ll probably just buy something from the store and so I thought, why not make something better? You know?”

 

“You’re such a food snob,” she joked with a small laugh.

 

“I prefer to think of it as I have taste,” Monroe returned, not at all affronted by her assessment since it was essentially true.

 

“And what about the bread?” she asked, having picked up on the scent of the rising bread underneath the sweetnesss of the pies.

 

“Oh, well, I’m in charge of the sides, aren’t I?”

 

As he spoke, Monroe busied himself in the kitchen, covering the crust of each pie with foil before putting it in the oven – switching them for the bread which had been rising just on the door. He was grateful that it was getting warm in here because it did well to hide the blush that had crept onto his face as she continued to tease him. He liked her teasing far too much to get her to stop but he didn’t want to return it too much in case it scared her off.

 

“Well, what can I help with?” she asked, moving further into the kitchen, making the normally roomy place feel a bit more crowded, though not in a necessarily unpleasant way.

 

Monroe closed the oven door and then straightened up. “Oh, you don’t have to,” he said, pulling the bread over to the kitchen island to begin forming it.

 

“I don’t mind,” she assured with another smile.

 

“Uh, okay, yeah. You okay with peeling and coring apples while keeping them whole?”

 

“Yeah,” Rosalee assured. “Why?” She stepped up beside him and began to roll her sleeves up.

 

“Because that’s the next recipe to be made,” he said, pulling out a recipe card and handing it to her.

 

After forming the bread into rolls, Monroe placed them on the cookie sheets and then set them aside to rise some more. While Rosalee quietly went to work on the apples, Monroe cut the yams and butternut squash.

 

The recipe was a fairly easy one and to his shame it hadn’t been passed down from generation to generation but it still tasted delicious. Usually it was just made with the apple and yams – or sweet potatoes as they’re sometimes called – but this year Monroe wanted to try it with the butternut squash as well.

 

Pretty soon the smells of the pies filled the air and the sounds of knives on the cutting boards echoed throughout the room. It was a comfortable setting for Monroe and he could definitely picture this being an everyday – or every other day at the least – thing for the pair of them. Truth be told, he could picture that and a whole lot more for the pair of them but he refused to entertain those other ideas until they were closer to becoming a reality.

 

“I bet you’re wondering why I came over,” Rosalee said after a few minutes’ more silence.

 

“Now that you mention it, yeah,” Monroe admitted, not having thought about it until now.

 

Rosalee ducked her head, smiling down at the apples and blushing so furiously that it made Monroe practically whimper in want.

 

"Well," she said, smiling some more. "I wanted to spend some time with you," she finally answered, looking a little embarrassed by her answer.

 

Monroe wasn't sure who moved first, but soon enough he had his arms wonderfully full of Rosalee and they were kissing without reserve. He made sure to keep his hold on her and his kisses soft and loving with just enough need to let her know how much he wanted this. It was hard, not giving in to his more primal instincts, but for Rosalee and the chance of keeping her there that much longer, it was worth the torturous control.

 

By the time they parted, they were panting furiously. Monroe tried to gauge how Rosalee had felt about the kiss from her expression but her face was giving nothing away.

 

"That was," he said, leaving it open enough for her to fill in the blank. It didn't hurt that he also wasn't sure how to explain what he thought of the kiss.

 

"Good," she said, summing it all up in one easy word. She smiled at him and stepped closer so that they could repeat the process if they so wished.

 

"Yeah," Monroe lamely added. "Yeah it was."

 

"We should do it again," Rosalee suggested, surprising him.

 

Contrary to what she'd just suggested, however, she stepped away from him and went back to cutting the core out of the apples.

 

"But first, we should finish this," she said as she resumed working. She looked up and have him a smile that looked to be trying to reassure him without words.

 

Monroe let his heart continue to flutter wildly for another minute or so and then he followed her lead and went back to making the sweet potatoes and apples side dish.

 

Just as they had finished throwing it all into a baking dish, the timer to the oven went off, signaling that the pies were done. While Rosalee wrapped the side dish with plastic wrap, Monroe went and pulled the pies out to cool and set them aside. He switched them out for the rolls, which had risen nicely while the pies had been cooking.

 

By now it was almost noon and the clouds outside were beginning to release snow onto Portland. Monroe took a moment to stand at the kitchen window to admire it.

 

"I don't know what it is," Rosalee said as she joined him in his left. "But I'm always filled with a childlike excitement  when I see snow falling."

 

Instinctively, Monroe wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. It seemed right to cuddle when it was snowing; after all, if they'd been outside they would have needed the warmth.

 

"Me too," he shared with a smile as memories from his childhood filtered into his mind. "For me, it always seemed to signal that Christmas was here."

 

"Oh no," Rosalee groaned but with a smile in her voice, telling him that she wasn't truly upset. "Don't tell me you're a Christmas nut."

 

They separated as she pulled back so that she could look at him but he still did his best to keep his arm around her.

 

"As a matter of fact I am," he said with an incredulous look. "Don't tell me that you're not because having one Grinch around is enough."

 

"Nick's not a fan of Christmas, either?" she asked, easily guessing who he meant.

 

"He doesn't even decorate," Monroe said with a shake of his head. "Juliette did that. I think he gets so busy with work that he forgets, honestly. But come on, how do you get so busy that you forget Christmas?"

 

At this Rosalee laughed and pulled him in for a hug. When they parted, she answered, "Not every one is a Christmas nut, Monroe. Sometimes things like that just slip our minds."

 

After a few minutes' pause where nothing was said, she added, "So, is there anything else we need to prepare before we go?"

 

Monroe looked around, checking off items on an invisible checklist inside his head.

 

"Nope. We just need to let the rolls bake and the pies cool and we'll be good."

 

"Good," she said with a smile. "Why don't you come in here," she moved from the kitchen to the living room, "and tell me about some of these clocks?"

 

 

**oOo**

 

 

For Hank, the day passed quietly and slowly. He woke up late, taking advantage of the ability to do so, and just did nothing from there. He flipped through the channels of his TV for a while, finding a game on that he actually wanted to watch, and ate breakfast. He’d gone to the store yesterday and grabbed a pumpkin and an apple pie as well as a bag of chips in case they were needed for the gathering today.

 

About eleven a.m., he’d called his mom and dad to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. He missed his family during the holidays but he honestly couldn’t afford the air fare or the road trip back home – Massachusetts – and so he stayed in Portland during those times. He made sure to call, though, and every year they would complain about how he never comes to visit them and he would bear it with his usual patience and love. Thankfully his parents had his older brother, Carl, and his youngest sister, Alisa, to keep them company – as well as their three to four kids, each – so Hank knew they weren’t exactly lonely. Just missing him.

 

After he’d talked to everyone in the house – his siblings had showed up while he’d been on the phone and had insisted on talking to him, for which he was grateful because it saved him another phone call or two – Hank decided it was time to take a shower and get ready to head over to Nick’s.

 

He honestly wasn’t sure about how he felt about Nick’s whole other life but for the most part he’d come to the conclusion to just go with it and see where things led. So far, it had been a wise decision as he’d been introduced to many a new thing and his partner had been more open with him than ever. Hank had even slowly become friends with Monroe and Rosalee which had somehow helped to form a small family for Nick, though he had yet to realize it or say anything about it.

 

Ever since the killings had died down, however, things had gone back to relative normal. They boys had had an easy case of domestic violence and then they’d been given the Thanksgiving holiday off by the Captain – why Hank couldn’t explain since they’ve never had that holiday off – which left the two men able to actually enjoy the holiday for once.

 

After his shower, Hank stopped to stare out the window in his bedroom, towel still wrapped around his waist. He’d been pretty secluded from the world outside his house up until this point and so it had come as a relative shock to see snow gathering on the ground. He supposed it wasn’t a total surprise since the weather had been threatening the white stuff for about a week now but he hadn’t expected it to start today. Technically, he’d hoped that it would start today but he reckoned they were the same thing.

 

He threw on some warm but nice clothes and grabbed his things and headed out to the car, letting it warm up while he de-iced the windows enough so he could drive. Once on his way, Hank made sure to drive carefully since the Dodge wasn’t exactly a snow-travel kind of car. The city of Portland, it seemed, had been prepared for the weather, however, and he had no trouble making it to Nick’s house. He pulled up just in time to see Monroe and Rosalee doing the same. He took time to wonder since when they arrived places together and then he got out of the car.

 

“Hey Hank,” Monroe greeted as they three met in front of Nick’s house. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Hank returned, smiling at the two. He didn’t realize until he’d talked to his family how much he was actually looking forward to this and so it hadn’t been a trouble to make the smile genuine in the least.

 

He let Monroe knock on the door and then the three stood and waited for Nick to answer. They hadn’t been expecting what they were met with when the door actually opened…

 

**TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter XVII**

Nick fidgeted around the house, making sure everything looked right for when Monroe, Rosalee and Hank arrived. He’d woken up earlier this morning and had decided to take another bike ride – this time staying closer to home and reigning in his enthusiasm for the exercise. It felt just as good as it had yesterday, possibly even better. For the first time in a long time, this morning Nick hadn’t woken up regretting the day before it had begun. He actually woke up feeling like a weight had been lifted from his chest, though there was still an ache there as well.

 

After he’d come back, he’d showered and changed and then began making the place a bit homier. With Juliette’s absence, the house had felt a bit colder to Nick and so he wanted to warm it up a bit for when his friends came.

 

He spread the quilt that Bud’s wife had made across the back of one of the couches in case someone – more than likely Rosalee – got cold and put some of the throw pillows he’d had back when he’d been living on his own – one of the few things he’d actually been able to throw in the washer in the past two days – onto an armchair and the couch. He then gathered all the pictures of him and Juliette and put them in the spare bedroom that he had yet to discern what to do with. Whether or not that made the place homier, Nick hadn’t a clue but it made him feel better at least.

 

Just as he came back downstairs, a noise from his trashcans drew his attention and Nick’s head snapped in their direction. For a moment his heart raced as he remembered a similar scenario – this one happening in the night – not long ago. He’d been attacked by, essentially, an ogre and while he knew that this was the case this time, his body still reacted to the memory.

 

Nick took a moment to listen again, this time wanting to make sure it was what he had thought it was. When the sound of the traschcans shaking against each other as well as some scraping sounds came, he sighed. “Friggin raccoons,” he cursed as he went out the backdoor to scare them off.

 

He slipped some shoes onto his black-sock clad feet and then threw his usual black, leather coat on over his light blue, button down shirt. The look was usual for a day at the office for him, including the dark blue jeans and the brown belt that was cinched around his waist, so he was quite comfortable in it, but it didn’t do much to provide shelter against the biting wind that immediately whipped around him once he was outside.

 

The sound of scratching came again, reaching him before he got to the trash cans and again Nick cursed the raccoons. He stopped dead out of shock when he saw, not the furry thieves in masks but a medium sized yellow lab. The poor animal looked starved. Its fur was coated in dirt and mud and was soaking wet. Even from where he stood, Nick could see that the dog was shivering in the cold but apparently its hunger was overriding its need to keep warm and so here it was digging for food.

 

As he got closer, Nick stepped on a twig and suddenly the dog noticed he was there.

 

Out of sheer fear the animal backed up a bit, its tail between its legs, its head bowed and its body cowering. The dog’s whole demeanor said, “Don’t kill me,” and Nick found that he couldn’t just leave it there to starve. He doubted it would last through the night.

 

He held his hands up and backed away, hoping that he was showing the animal that he wasn’t a threat. The further away he got, the closer the dog came to the trashcans again, but it didn’t rummage. It stood where it was, cautiously watching Nick as he went inside and looked through his pantry and refrigerator. He was able to come up with some leftover chicken that was close to spoiling and so he grabbed it and went back outside. His time in the house had helped his fingers begin to thaw but the moment he went back outside, they started to freeze again. He ignored it as he crept closer to the dog.

 

The dog hadn’t moved from its spot by the trashcans and so it saw him coming right away and it instantly became guarded and fearful.

 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Nick cooed. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He pulled out the container he’d grabbed and pulled out a slice of chicken, “You hungry?”

 

He held out it in front of him, seeing if the dog would get close. Not surprisingly it didn’t. It stayed where it was well out of arm’s reach, where it obviously determined itself to be safe from him. It did sniff the air, though, and so Nick put the slice down on the ground and stepped a decent distance away. He watched with stiffening patience as the dog slowly crept towards the morsel, sniffed it and grabbed it. It wolfed it down in less than half a bite and then backed away again.

 

Despite the fact that snow how now started falling, Nick stepped forward and put a couple more pieces down and then stepped back again. He wanted to gain a little bit of the dog’s trust so that when he tried to lure the animal into his house, it wouldn’t be so hard. While this dog _was_ more trusting than a few of the strays he’d come across while on the job, it still looked utterly terrified of him and he wanted that to go away.

 

Nick waited until the dog ate those pieces and the repeated the process several more times. After about the fifth or sixth time, Nick was really starting to get cold and snow was starting to gather on his air and eyelashes and so he settled for sitting down on the back porch steps, holding out a couple slices of chicken in between his fingers.

 

It took a while but eventually the dog crawled closer, tail still between its legs, and snipped the meat out of his hands. Chancing his luck, and wanting to go back inside, Nick stood up and went inside the house, turning every so often to see if the dog was following. Surprisingly, it was. Its steps were hesitant as it moved, but it followed nonetheless.

 

Once inside, Nick took the meat, along with some pieces of bread that he had left, and put it on the floor in the middle of the kitchen. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was planning on keeping the animal or not but his conscience wasn’t going to let him leave the dog outside where it would probably die before the night was out. He stood off to the side as he watched the dog guardedly creep towards the food. Once the dog was further inside, Nick made sure the dog could see him as he moved towards the door and closed it. The dog kept a close watch on him but it didn’t make a move to leave when Nick got close to the door and so Nick took that as a sign that the dog wanted to be there.

 

He dug through his refrigerator and grabbed a bit of leftover chicken and rice that Monroe had left for him and placed the container on the floor as well as a bowl of water. While the dog ate, Nick contemplated what to do now.

 

With Monroe, Rosalee and Hank coming over, Nick couldn’t take the animal to the shelter; he wouldn’t have enough time. But he couldn’t just leave the dog looking – and smelling – like it was. And yet, how was he supposed to get the animal upstairs _and_ into the bathtub? He was going to eventually run out of food and that seemed to be the only reason the dog was still around.

 

“Now what do we do?” he asked the dog with a sigh. The dog eventually sat on the floor and proceeded to stare at Nick, licking its lips periodically. It still shivered, despite the heat of the house, but it seemed less pronounced than when Nick had first encountered the animal.

 

“I don’t suppose you’d want to willingly follow me upstairs and take a bath, would you?” he asked, although knowing that the lab wouldn’t answer him.

 

The dog cocked its head to the side and stared at him, licking its lips again. With another sigh, Nick turned around and grabbed a bit of leftover steak from an outing at the station. “I didn’t think so,” he said as he tore off a bite and held it out for the dog. After it had consumed the morsel, Nick started walking upstairs. Every so often – albeit less often than he’d done with the chicken outside – he would leave a bite on the stair behind him, slowly leading the dog upstairs and into the bathroom.

 

Once he got the dog inside, Nick stopped. Did he even have any shampoo for the dog? He supposed he could use his own but he didn’t think that was good for the dog’s coat. He rummaged around in the cabinets beneath the sink and let out a brief cry of triumph – which startled the dog a bit as it cowered in the corner at the sound – when he found a bottle of leftover dog shampoo from Juliette’s vet clinic. They’d fostered a dog for a bit, not only to help the animal out but to see if they’d work with having a dog. It came as no surprise when they didn’t and it was mostly Nick who wasn’t.

 

He started running the bath and then turned around with his hands on his hips, looking at the dog.

 

The animal was still cowering towards the doorway, its tail between its legs and its head slightly bowed. The poor thing looked as though it were expecting a beating and it made Nick’s heart ache. No animal deserved be treated as badly as he suspected this dog had been. But Nick was inclined to believe that this dog deserved it less than others as it really seemed like a sweet and gentle animal.

 

While the fostered dog hadn’t worked, it had been mostly due to Nick’s schedule rather than his dislike of the dog. At the time, he’d had very little control over his schedule and since he was a newbie at being a detective, he’d gotten stuck with a lot of the paperwork that was leftover from cases. Hank had said that he had to pay his dues and at the time Nick had believed him and so he’d done it without complaint. He now knew that Hank had only been messing with him as well as pushing his work of onto Nick – something that hasn’t happened since.

 

Although, now that he thought about it, he _hadn’t_ actually liked that dog. It had been a small one, but contrary to popular belief, not all men care about the size of the dog and that hadn’t been Nick’s problem with it. His problem had been that it had been a yippy furball that liked to snap at him unless he was feeding the dang thing.

 

This dog, however. This poor frightened animal, he thought he could actually like; providing it didn’t have an owner.

 

He took off his blue-button down and laid it across the sink countertop. Since it was one of the few clean shirts he actually had available there was no way he was going to let the mud-matted fur dirty it. He really needed to do laundry but today wasn’t the day to do it and yesterday he’d had other things on his mind.

 

“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands to show the animal that he wasn’t planning on hurting it. “I’m going to pick you up and put you in the bath. If you’re going to be hanging out here, you need a bath.”

 

The dog’s ears shifted back but it didn’t bare its teeth and so Nick took that as permission to get closer. Once he was in front of it, Nick bent down and held out on of his hands for the dog to smell.

 

“If you bite me, its back outside for you, got it?” he warned even though he knew the animal wouldn’t understand him.

  
The lab sniffed his hand and then reached out its nose to nudge it and Nick took that as the dog’s way of saying it was okay to touch it. He ran his hand through the hard, dirty fur, petting the dog despite of it. After another minute or so, he added his other hand and then, moving them both into position, lifted the animal. The lab wriggled a little in his arms, scared about being lifted off the ground and moved away from where it was, but he held the creature tight to his chest to keep it from escaping. He put the dog inside the bathtub and began rinsing the dirt out of its fur.

 

It took a bit of maneuvering to keep the lab inside the tub while cleaning it, but eventually Nick found a way to do it. He kept his hand near the dog’s throat so that if the animal tried to leave, it would ram right into his hand and Nick could stop it from going anywhere. When that wasn’t an option, Nick used his entire body to block the dog, working the shampoo into the fur as well as he could.

 

All-in-all the bathing process was going well. The dog seemed to calm a bit with the warm water and the shampoo rub-down. Then the doorbell rang and all hell broke loose.

 

With the new sound, the dog jumped out of fright. Only, instead of jumping back once, the dog jumped several times and then leapt over Nick’s arms – the grimm was trying to reach out and calm the animal down – and ran out the door. Cursing himself for not having the foresight to close the door, Nick got off his knees and ran after the dog.

 

When he got to the foot of the stairs, the dog was nowhere to be seen. Nick probably could have followed the wet dog prints that the lab had left behind but then the doorbell rang again and Nick sighed. The sound of nails clicking behind him told him that the lab was coming out of hiding – whether out of curiosity or some other motive, he didn’t know – and was following him as he answered the door.

 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Monroe greeted with a wide smile and his arms held out wide as though he were going to hug Nick. The Grimm knew that that wasn’t likely however, and that it was just Monroe’s over exuberance for holidays coming out and so he merely smiled in return.  

 

Before he could say anything, everyone’s eyes traveled from Nick’s face to his sopping wet shirt and jeans and then down to his right. When Nick looked down, there stood the yellow lab, soaking wet and still dripping with shampoo still in its fur.

 

It regarded the people at the door warily but it didn’t leave Nick alone with them like the grimm had expected it to.

 

“Uh, okay,” Monroe said when he looked back up at Nick. “Not what I expected.”

 

“Hi guys, come on in,” Nick greeted, stepping back, the dog doing the same, to allow them entry. Once everyone was in, he closed the door. “Just make yourselves comfortable while I deal with this,” he said, pointing down at the dog.

 

“And this would be?” Hank asked, obviously confused.

 

“I’ll explain later,” Nick promised. He looked down at the dog and said, “Now how am I going to get you back upstairs?”

 

As if sensing his thoughts, the dog’s ears pricked up and then it ran back upstairs. With a silent curse, Nick ran after it and headed towards the spare bathroom. He stopped when he heard the lab’s nails clicking on his bedroom floor and went in to find the animal hiding beneath his bed.

 

“Come on,” he coaxed, getting on his hands and knees. “Come on, we gotta finish your bath.”

 

When the dog stubbornly remained where it was, Nick sighed and got up. He went back downstairs and grabbed more food, ignoring the curious looks that were thrown his way as he got into the fridge, grabbed a box of rice from a Chinese take-out place, and left. He made it back upstairs and found the dog in exactly the same place. And if Nick wasn’t mistaken, the lab’s tail wagged a little when it saw him. Odd.

 

“Okay, this is how it’s gonna work,” he explained. I’m going leave some rice in a trail leading towards the bathroom and you’re going to follow and let me finish giving you a bath. When we’re done, you can go back to hiding under the bed. Deal?”

 

Another tail wag was his answer and so Nick took that as an agreement.

 

Nick got off the floor and started spreading bits of rice along it, leading the lab into the bathroom again. Once back inside, Nick closed the door, making sure to keep the dog in this time and picked the dog up and put it back into the now-cold bath. He ran a bit of warm water and started rinsing the dog, making sure to rub the coat and get as much soap and dirt out as possible. Once finished, the dog shook and got a fairly decent about of water over Nick and everything else.

 

“Was that really necessary?” Nick grumbled as he got up and grabbed a spare towel to finish drying the dog off. The lab’s tail wagged a bit and Nick assumed that was as much of a happy bark as he was going to get from the animal and so assumed that meant yes.

 

Once he finished drying the dog off, he opened the door and the lab immediately ran into his bedroom and climbed under his bed. Nick supposed that he should be grateful that the animal wasn’t _on top of_ his bed but he had yet to feel it.

 

After changing his shirt and throwing his soaking wet tee shirt as well as the spotted and now smelly button-down into the hamper, Nick rummaged through his drawers and closet, trying to find something to replace them with. He wasn’t left with much and so he settled for slipping on a black under-tee and a black button-down that he generally reserved for nice dates with Juliette. He changed out of his dark blue jeans and put on a pair of lighter blue ones instead, reapplying the brown belt at the waist.

 

Maybe he should do some laundry today after all, he thought as he noticed just how empty his closet and dresser were and how full his hamper was in comparison. If he could find some time to slip away for a bit, he’d sneak about and get a load started, that should hold him off until he had another day off or two – which, if he wasn’t mistaken was this weekend.

 

He knelt down to peer under the bed. The lab was lying flat with her head resting on her paws. Yes, sometime during the whole bath process, Nick had had time to notice that the dog was female. He was actually kind of glad about that as he wasn’t a big fan of male dogs; they tended to hump things. The lab’s eyes were barely open so he didn’t bother trying to reach under and pet the animal. He was planning on giving the dog a warning but as he was fairly certain that the animal wouldn’t be listening, and wouldn’t know what in the hell he was saying, he didn’t bother.

 

With a puff of laughter, Nick got up and went downstairs to join his guests.

 

**oOo**

While Nick left to go get the dog situation taken care of – and really, when had Nick gotten a dog in the first place?! – Monroe, Rosalee, and Hank made themselves at home in the kitchen. Well, Monroe and Rosalee did, Hank merely stood off to the side and watched. He noticed Nick’s own contribution to the dessert portion sitting on one of the smaller areas of the countertop, just to the right and in the corner of the stove, and placed his two pies alongside it. Judging by the smell coming from the paper bag that Monroe was holding, neither pie was necessary, but at least they brought something.

 

It astonished Hank how the two wesen moved about Nick’s kitchen as though it were their own. Hank had known Nick for, going on, four years; he could remember when Nick and Juliette had bought the house for goodness’ sake and even he didn’t know it as well as they seemed to. Still, here they were, weaving in and out of one another – and Hank – and going about setting things out or aside to cook. Every so often, Rosalee would go into a cabinet or a drawer for a spice or utensil and come back with precisely what she’d wanted.

 

“So when did Nick get a dog?” she asked as she seasoned a good-sized turkey with whatever she’d grabbed. She stopped what she was doing long enough to look at Hank _and_ Monroe for an answer to let them know that she was asking them both before she went back to prepping the main course.

 

“I dunno,” Hank answered, looking over at Monroe whom he assumed already knew about the animal. “You?”

 

Monroe stopped checking on what appeared to be yams and apples in a dish to look at the both of them. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “what do you guys think he tells me everything?”

 

The scoff in the blutbad’s tone was enough to tell Hank that, maybe just maybe, Nick hadn’t actually planned on getting a dog. But then how did he happen to have one, and a soaking wet one at that, in his house?

 

“Maybe Nick didn’t plan on getting one,” Rosalee suggested as though she could read Hank’s thoughts. She put the turkey in the oven, set the timer, and then went to Monroe’s paper bag and pulled out a bottle of wine.

 

Now we’re talkin’, Hank thought as he took the bottle from Rosalee to open it while she grabbed the glasses. He toasted to the two of them, the movement a silent thanks for the wine, and then took a sip. Hank wasn’t a foody or a winery junkie and so he couldn’t distinguish what flavors were in the wine but he could say that it was good. Dry but not too dry, which he preferred.

 

“But then where did it come from?” Monroe countered, sliding the dish he’d brought in with the turkey. He lifted his arm and messed with the watch on his wrist for a bit and it took Hank a minute to realize that the clock-maker was probably setting an alarm on the watch he wore.

 

“The trash cans,” Nick’s voice answered as the man himself entered the kitchen. He’d changed out of his previous set of clothes and into something a little less Nick-like, probably because his own clothes had been wet. When the group as a whole turned their attention to him, he accepted the glass of wine that Monroe had poured and then offered, and took a sip. Once he’d taken a moment to savor the flavor – which he didn’t seem to appreciate quite as much as Hank did – he continued, “I caught it trying to find some food in the trash.”

 

“So you got it inside and gave it a bath?” Monroe asked, sounding skeptical.

 

“Well, I fed it about three different meals first,” Nick answered, going to lean against the refrigerator while Monroe settled for leaning against the oven, Rosalee leaning against the sink and Hank taking the opposite side as Nick.

 

“I’m surprised that it trusted you to do that,” Rosalee said, her eyebrows coming to meet in confusion.

 

“Actually, it’s not that surprising,” Monroe said, pulling all attention to himself. Apparently he hadn’t expected that because as soon as he’d finished saying that, he took a drink of wine and then proceeded to let the liquid roll around on his tongue while the others waited for further explanation.

 

When it became obvious that the taller man wasn’t planning on answering, Hank prompted, “Why not?”

 

“Oh!” Monroe answered, apparently finally getting why everyone had been staring at him. “Because Nick emits this aura that canines pick up on. It’s soothing to them and tells them that they can trust him.”

 

“An aura?” Nick asked, scoffing at the idea of it.

 

Hank, however, didn’t have such a problem believing it as he’d seen Nick do wonders with stray or abandoned dogs while on cases and so asked, “Is that why you two became friends?” When Nick stifled a laugh and Monroe glared at him, he then asked, “What?”

 

“Okay, first of all, blutbadden are not like dogs,” Monroe clarified.

 

“Oh, I don’t know, Monroe, I mean, after all, you did sniff out the mellifer for me,” Nick threw in. “And the first time I really met you, I caught your marking your territory.”

 

At this, Hank wrinkled his nose in disgust but hid it behind his wine glass as he took another sip.

 

“Second of all,” Monroe continued, clearly intent on ignoring Nick’s jesting, “the only reason Nick and I became friends was because he kept pushing his way in.”

 

“Well, that and you felt bad leaving a baby grimm on his own, right?” Rosalee added, gesturing at the pair of them as she spoke.

 

Nick choked a little on his wine. “Uhm, baby?”

 

“That’s true too, I guess,” Monroe admitted, smiling just a little bit as the teasing moved from himself to Nick. When Nick continued to look at them with an annoyed expression, Monroe just chuckled. “Well, come on, man, you have to admit, you were kind of like a baby in the way of the grimm when we first met.”

 

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight, I am not a baby, nor have I ever been one in the entire time we’ve known each other,” Nick clarified, pointing between himself and Monroe. “Okay? I was just a little new, that’s all.”

 

“A little new? Dude, you were at my house every time you had a wesen question. I began to start feeling used for my knowledge of wesen.”

 

A flash of emotion darkened Nick’s eyes for a second and Hank could tell that he was remembering something that he didn’t want to think about. What it was, the detective hadn’t a clue but he could read the guilt on Nick’s face easily enough.

 

Though he doubted Monroe knew this, he and Nick had begun to meet at a coffee shop in the mornings before work a couple times a week. It wasn’t far from the precinct so they weren’t ever late for work but it was far enough away out of the beaten path that not many cops of the Portland PD went there. There, they talked about all things grimm and wesen. It was there that Hank had learned things of what has been happening over the past year from Nick’s perspective. They even talked about Monroe and all of his help throughout everything.

 

If there was ever an emotion that made Nick look like a kicked dog, it was guilt, and whenever he spoke of his conversations or interactions with Monroe, it was always the emotion that came through the most. Hank finally understood where some of it had begun to take root when Nick had told him of the blutbad getting beaten to hell by reapers because of his association with Nick. From there, Hank supposed, it just festered and blossomed and he doubted that even Monroe could assuage it if he tried.

 

Apparently Monroe had guessed what was going through Nick’s mind because he then said, “Don’t look at me like that, okay. We’ve already been through this.”

 

The guilt on Nick’s face immediately changed to one of faked innocence. “What?” he asked, pretending to not have a clue. “I didn’t say anything.”

 

“You didn’t have to,” Hank answered. “It was written all over your face.”

 

“Yeah, you might want to work on that, by the way,” Rosalee added. “It might go a long way to stopping people from identifying you as a grimm.”

 

“Which would make some cases a little easier to handle,” Hank said, realizing belatedly why some people had reacted to Nick the way they had.

 

“Right,” Nick said, taking another sip of wine. “I’ll get right on that.”

 

The sarcasm in Nick’s voice was easy to pick up, letting the three friends know that he didn’t plan on doing any such thing and so they all fell quiet for a bit. They each took careful sips of their wine, letting that sound fill the kitchen for a while until Rosalee turned back around and pulled what appeared to be some sort of meat or fish or something out of the paper bag and began to season it.

 

“So back to the dog, whom I assume is upstairs,” Monroe said as a change of subject, standing idly while Rosalee worked. “What are you gonna do with it?”

 

“Well, I figured, tomorrow I’d call the shelter and see if anyone has reported one missing. If that’s a bust then I’ll take it in on Saturday and see if it’s been microchipped. From there, I don’t know.” Nick took another sip and then abandoned the glass altogether. He then sighed, “Until then, I guess it’s staying with me.”

 

“Do you even have anything to feed it other than your own food?” Monroe asked, already knowing the answer.

 

“No, but I wasn’t going to leave it outside to starve and freeze, either, Monroe,” Nick countered.

 

The blutbad held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I wasn’t saying that you should. I was saying that you should probably go get a small bag of kibble tomorrow before you go to work. Too much human food isn’t good for dogs.”

 

“You know, I didn’t see the dog for very long but I’m betting it doesn’t have an owner,” Hank said, changing the subject and thinking back to the state the dog had been in. “Or at least not one that cared enough about it to try and find it.”

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Nick said, clearly not wanting to commit to anything until it was a for sure thing. “But I’d rather check and make sure.”

 

“Fair enough,” Hank said, knowing his partner well enough to know that until that stage was complete, they weren’t going to get much more out of him on the subject. “Hey, why don’t we go and see what games are on?”

 

“What and just leave Rosalee and I to slave away in the kitchen?” Monroe asked, sounding as though he were complaining.

 

“It looks to me like Rosalee’s the only one working right now,” Hank commented before exiting. He turned and waiting for Nick to start following him.

 

“Besides, you guys look like you’ve got it handled,” Nick answered, pausing long enough to address the pair of them. “And you and I both know that you love to cook so I figured why not let you? After all, your nose is keener than mine; you’d be able to smell if it was burning better than I would.”

 

“Oh for the love of, I am not a dog!” Monroe called out as Nick sauntered, snickering, out of the kitchen.

 

Hank shook his head as he led the way into the living room and turned on the TV.

 

“Are you sure teasing him is a good idea? I mean, he does control the food,” Hank pointed out as he started to flip through the channels.

 

“It’s fine,” Nick assured, sitting back in the couch and relaxing a bit. “He wouldn’t ever do anything to the food; he’d consider that a tragedy.”

 

“You better hope so, because if I get my food and there’s somethin’ wrong with it, I’m blamin’ you.”

 

**TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that Nick was perhaps a bit too attached to the dog in the last chapter.. I may have put a bit of my feelings towards a dog like that into his character. However, it works for the story and so I’m not changing it. Sorry. 
> 
> I also know that most dogs probably wouldn’t have trusted him as easily as this dog did. I’m actually basing the lab’s behavior off one of my own dogs. She’d probably go home with anyone if they gave her enough attention (and food). She’s not a lab (she’s a blue-heeler/whippet mix) but, yeah, I’m essentially writing the lab as though she were my dog.
> 
> Just an FYI ;-)

**XVIII**

Kelly Burkhardt prowled the streets of Portland, furious. The youngest Renard sure knew how to push on all the right spots and he’d done his damndest to touch as many as he’d could during their brief chat. Sure, she’d gotten in a few hits of her own but he hadn’t seemed anywhere near as bothered by them as she would have liked him to be. She was sure that he had just been putting on a front while she’d been around but it still annoyed her.

 

A roar like the sound of an enraged beast echoed down from the mountains and Kelly smiled. So she _had_ gotten to him just as much as he’d gotten to her. Good. He hadn’t needed to get in the middle of family business anyways.

 

She didn’t care _what_ Sean thought; he would never be bonded with Nick, not if she could help it. The very idea made her sick to her stomach. Sadly, there was only one wesen that she knew of that could even have a chance at doing something about it and they just happened to work for Sean.

 

Her lip curled in disgust. She knew she’d have to go visit the ex-hexenbiest Adalind, after all, she’d been ordered to when she’d been discovered, but she loathed doing it, let alone asking for a favor.

 

Bright house lights illuminated her face, making her duck back into the shadows lest she should be caught. The sight she was seeing made her stomach roll and her blood boil.

 

The blutbad and the fuchsbau sat at the dining table with Nick. They were all sharing a meal, smiling, and laughing like good friends were prone to do on Thanksgiving and it made Kelly more furious than her meeting with Sean had. It appeared that her messages hadn’t been received like she’d hoped they would. It was now time to escalate things and make sure her son knew how grimms were expected to behave.

 

**oOo**

 

The Raiders and the Cowboys had just tied the game just as the second half had ended when Rosalee had announced that everything – more specifically, the turkey – was ready. Knowing from past experience that it would make good background noise while they all ate and talked, the men decided to leave the TV on as they went into the kitchen and helped bring the food and drinks to the table. The commentators were saying, God only knows what, about the game. Honestly, Nick hadn’t really been paying attention. He didn’t care who won this game as he despised both teams so he’d taken the time to space out.

 

His mind had wandered between memories of his past Thanksgivings – whether they had been with Juliette or his aunt – to the dog upstairs currently hiding out under his bed, to the things the Captain had shared with him. He weaved in and out of it all, never staying one place long enough to become completely lost in any one moment. So when Rosalee had come to say, “Come help,” he hadn’t had trouble coming back to the present and getting up to do just that. He grabbed the turkey platter and carried it to the table, noticing Hank on his left with a bowl of mashed potatoes in one hand and a gravy dish in the other. Just as he cleared the way, Monroe came out with another bowl of what appeared to be sweet potatoes and something else and a basket full of rolls while behind him Rosalee carried a platter with some sort of fish dish on it.

 

The food looked and smelled great. Nick hadn’t realized how hungry he was until his stomach gave a rather large growl at the sight of it all. Hank had given him an eyebrow raise at the sound and Nick just shrugged it off, going back into the kitchen for several glasses. He filled them all with water – they’d all been drinking wine since he’d come back downstairs – and placed them in front of each place setting and then they all sat down to eat.

 

For the most part, it tasted as good as it looked. Nick wasn’t too crazy about the fish dish but otherwise he loved it all. The turkey was perfectly cooked and not too dry, which, he knew, was a feat in and of itself. The mashed potatoes were creamy and delicious with just enough butter to give them flavor and the sweet potatoes – which had been baked with apples, apparently – were soft and tender with just enough brown sugar on top of them to make them sweet but not too sweet.

 

Hank and Nick had thanked Monroe and Rosalee from the bottoms of their hearts for the food and for the work they’d put in to the day and then they’d dug in.

 

Nothing but the sound of chewing and the background noise of the football game could be heard throughout the house. The small group were content to let it be that way while they sated their hunger and quenched their thirst. Once they had felt like they’d had enough food to slow down a bit – which in this case meant seconds for the men and a new round of refilled water glasses – and made some conversation.

 

“So, _he’s_ been here, I take it,” Monroe said, scooping some mashed potatoes onto his fork and slipping them into his mouth.

 

“Who, the Captain?” Nick asked, wondering why the blutbad wasn’t using one of the few names they had for the man. He took a relatively big bite of his roll before placing it back down onto his plate.

 

“Yeah, the Captain, who else would I mean?” Monroe answered with an eye roll in his tone.

 

“Well, I don’t know, Monroe, you could have pretty much meant anyone that was male,” Nick answered back.

 

“Yeah but I would have used their name.”

 

“And why aren’t you using the Captain’s name?” Hank asked, jumping in.

 

“Because I value my life,” Monroe replied in a tone that said duh. At the blank looks that Hank and Nick were continuing to give him, however, he sighed and said, “Look, I get that you guys don’t get it but for wesen? Well, let’s just say that we have to adhere to his rules or bad things happen.”

 

“Is he really that much of a tyrant?” Hank asked, curious.

 

“Not so much a tyrant as an enforcer,” Monroe answered, earning himself a slight slap on the arm from Rosalee.

 

“Stop exaggerating, Monroe, he’s not that bad,” she said smiling a little as she did so.

 

“Well pardon me for respecting authority,” Monroe answered.

 

“Sounds like you’re afraid of authority,” Hank muttered before he took another scoop of mashed potatoes.

 

Nick choked a little on his bite of turkey when he saw the look Monroe threw Hank. It was kind of fun seeing someone else give the blutbad some flack. Usually it was just Nick and Monroe and while that was fun, it was much more so to have Hank join the fray.

 

“Hey, how’d you know who Monroe was talking about?” Rosalee asked, turning the conversation onto Nick.

 

The grimm paused for a minute, caught in a virtual spotlight that he didn’t want and then answered, “I figured Monroe could smell the Captain in the house.”

 

“Okay, moving on from the slight at my sense of smell, you’re meaning to tell me that he’s actually been _in_ the house?”

 

The shocked way in which Monroe expressed this was almost comical and Nick couldn’t stop himself from chuckling a little as he said, “Yeah-Monroe, what’s with you? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’ve been acting like a fangirl meeting her favorite celebrity ever since you met Sean.”  

 

“Oh, it’s ‘Sean’ now, is it?” Hank called out, making Nick glare at him before turning his attention back to Monroe.

 

“Okay, one, I am not acting like a fangirl. I am merely in awe of how completely ignorant you are of who exactly your Captain is,” Monroe objected. He pushed his plate aside – as did the rest of them – and rested his forearms on the table. “And, two, how do you even know what a fangirl is?”

 

“I’m a cop, Monroe, I’ve seen my fair share of obsessed teenagers,” Nick retorted with a small smirk at the implication.

 

“Okay, can we put this discussion on hold for a minute, please?” Rosalee interfered, obviously sensing an argument about to break out. “I’d like to go back to Hank’s question. Since when did you start calling your captain Sean?”

 

Nick sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew that he was basically telling everyone in the room that he was defensive about the topic but he was also hoping that it conveyed the message that he didn’t want to talk about it; whether or not they actually listened was a different story entirely.

 

“Wait a minute,” Monroe said, his eyes narrowing slightly. In a flash he was out of his chair and sniffing Nick.

 

“Monroe!” Nick objected, practically jumping out of his chair at the sudden intrusion. “Give me some warning next time.”

 

“You’re saying you’re _okay_ with the fact that he just sniffed you like a dog?” Hank asked, surprised.

 

“Yeah, well, this isn’t the first time he’s done it but he usually warns me before he does it,” Nick answered, once again leaning back in his chair. During this exchange, Monroe sat down but Rosalee had gotten up and began to do the same thing that the blutbad had done, albeit, not as intrusively.

 

“Oh,” she said, the one word sounding like it should explain everything when it, in fact, explained nothing.

 

“Oh?” Hank and Nick asked as one, understandably lost at the apparent implications of the statement.

 

“Have you been having any strange feelings towards the Captain that you can’t explain?” Monroe asked.

 

Okay, _this_ was an uncomfortable change of topic that Nick definitely didn’t want to discuss. Hank’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. If he actually had any hair, they would have disappeared beneath it but as it was it just served to make his forehead look smaller. Rosalee and Monroe continued to stare evenly – damn near intently too – at Nick, making him fight the desire to squirm under the scrutiny.

 

Just then, the doorbell rang, providing the distraction that Nick was beginning to pray for. As though that were some sort of signal, the dog that had been hiding upstairs ever since her bath had been finished, appeared, nails clicking on the floor as she jogged down the stairs and stood at the door. She turned her head from Nick to the door and then repeated the process a few times until Nick actually got up and went to answer it. She moved over a bit, to allow him access to the door, but otherwise she didn’t move from her spot.

 

“Nick, hey!” Bud answered, sounding suddenly unsure of what he was doing there. The eisbiber quickly looked from Nick down to the dog and took a few steps back. “Oh, you, you got a dog. That’s nice. I suppose it’ll be nice to have someone to care for now that Juliette’s gone. Not that a dog is a good replacement for her, it’s just that, it’ll be good for you not to be alone.”

 

Nick sighed and smiled. Sometimes Bud’s nervous rambling drove him crazy but he was beginning to find more and more that he found it a bit soothing. The realization was a bit disturbing for him since it probably meant that he was beginning to accept his life as a grimm and those that he’d adopted into it, but maybe, he supposed, it was time that he did that anyways. With Juliette gone, he really didn’t have a need to keep the two separate anymore.

 

As though sensing that Bud wasn’t a threat, the dog pushed passed him and padded down the porch steps to peruse in the snow-covered front yard. Nick watched as she relieved herself and then came back in, going instantly upstairs and disappearing once again.

 

“Whatcha need, Bud?” he asked, opening the door and inviting the shorter man in.

 

“Hm? Me? Oh, nothing. No, it’s the wife. She wasn’t sure if you had anyone coming over for Thanksgiving and told me to bring you a few things in case you didn’t,” Bud chatted as he stepped in. He froze to take in the three guests at the table and smiled nervously at them. “But, I can see that they aren’t necessary. No problem, I’ll just take it back.”

 

“Bud, stop,” Nick gently commanded with a patient sigh. “What’d you bring?”

 

“Nothing really,” Bud answered. “Just a couple pies – cherry and blueberry because she remembered how much you seemed to enjoy the last ones she made – a cooked chicken that we didn’t get through, some sweet potato pie, and a Thanksgiving quilt that she thought you’d enjoy what with the snow and all.”

 

“What, no loaves of bread?” Hank scoffed, obviously thinking that this was a joke.

 

“Oh, yes, of course, I forgot about the bread. It’s sitting in my front seat, after all, I’m not sure how I forgot about it.”

 

Nick threw his partner a small look, satisfied when he saw Rosalee give the detective a smack on the arm – similar to the one she gave Monroe earlier, but less flirty – for reminding the eisbiber about the extra food that Nick did most certainly not need.

 

“Well, who am I to turn down all that?” Nick asked, giving his assent at it being delivered. “Do you need some help bringing it in?”

 

“What? No, oh, no, it’s okay, I’ve got. You just sit back down and enjoy your meal with your guests. I didn’t meant to intrude.”

 

And just like that, Bud walked out the door; well, scurried would have been more like it, but for Bud it was the same thing. Unable to stand by for a second time while Bud did all the work, Nick followed him out anyways. He shivered in the cold of the late November night and he slipped a little on the ice on the sidewalk that was hidden just beneath the layer of snow, but he made it to the truck just as the eisbiber finished unlocking it.

 

“Bud, let me help,” Nick said. He noticed the other man freeze at his voice but he didn’t take too long to pay attention to it as he reached into the back of Bud’s truck and pulled out several of the items that Bud had mentioned earlier. There was a lot more than the eisbiber had mentioned. Obviously the man had been trying to downplay it all for Nick’s benefit. Either that or he actually hadn’t planned on delivering it all. Either way, there was a lot but for once, Nick didn’t wonder what he’d do with it all.

 

“Nick, you really don’t have to,” Nick heard Bud try and dissuade behind him but Nick wasn’t listening. The minute he’d grabbed all that he thought was safe to carry, he started heading back to the house, smiling when he saw Monroe come out to help as well.

 

The front door had been left open, making it easier for the three men to enter at will with their arms full and so Nick walked right and placed his load in the unofficial sitting room just to the left of the entryway.

 

“Is that it?” Hank asked, not having witnessed an eisbiber delivery before. To Hank’s left, Rosalee ducked her head a little and smiled, knowing the same thing that Nick knew – Hank was about to see just how not-it it was.

 

“Not even close,” Nick answered, leaving the warmth of his house to go get more.

 

By the time the three men had finished, the sitting room was full. There was just enough room to move around everything, Bud and Monroe obviously having left a path to maneuver through, but that was about it. A couple pies had turned into about eight, four of each; Nick already knew that he’d be sending two home with Hank, Monroe and Rosalee since he’d never be able to eat them all on his own. One cooked chicken had actually been four; again, a couple were going to be leaving tonight with Nick’s guests but Bud didn’t need to know that. _A_ sweet potato pie had mysteriously turned into four and had morphed into three additional sweet potato casseroles complete with marshmallows on top. The Thanksgiving quilt that Bud had mentioned looked beautiful and warm, but instead of one, there was three – all of which were _definitely_ staying with Nick this time because he actually quite liked those quilts.

 

Along with everything else, there was ten loaves of bread – each varying in kind – about ten dozen muffins – again, varying in kind – and several dozens of cookies. Apparently Bud’s wife wanted to make sure that Nick had enough sweets to last him through Christmas. Oh God, Nick hoped she didn’t do the same at Christmas – he’d have to live at the gym just to work off the extra pounds.

 

“You’re kidding, me, right?” Hank asked, his mouth slightly ajar and his eyes fixed on the piles.

 

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Bud asked. “I tried to tell her that she didn’t have to make any of it but she refused to listen.” He turned his full attention on to Nick. “I think she’s still trying to thank you for your help with the hasslich as well as apologizing for the mess with the reapers afterwards.”

 

“The reapers weren’t your guys’ fault,” Nick assured, actually feeling a little badly because the assassins had threatened the eisbibers because of him. “And as for Butrell, I was just doing my job.”

 

“I know,” Bud assured. “Really, I do. And I tried to tell her that as well but she wouldn’t listen. After a while you just kind of give up, you know?”

 

“Yeah, I get it,” Nick assured, knowing how futile it could be to reassure someone when they don’t want to be reassured. Looking again at all the food, something else came to him. “How did you guys afford all this plus food for your family?”

 

“Oh! My brother owns a farm a few hours outside of Portland. He had some supplies that he had surplus of and so he traded them for help around the farm. He had some electronic work that needed to be done throughout his house and such and it was worth the trade. We have enough meat to last us a good six months now, not to mention the apples and eggs and things.”

 

“You traded your services for food and then used a good portion of that food to feed one man?” Hank asked, sounding incredulous.

 

“Well, when you put it that way, it does sound a bit ridiculous, but it was no trouble, really. The wife loves to cook and bake and she’s really more of a mother hen than an eisbiber and wanted to make sure that Nick was taken care of during the holidays.”

 

“Well, tell her thanks for me, will you? I really appreciate the care.”

 

Bud beamed at him and Nick knew his words had been taken to heart. Good, he thought. He’d meant them even if a part of him was revolting against it as well. While he didn’t think that he needed to be looked after like an orphan without a family to take care of him, Nick appreciated the sentiment and the effort that Bud’s wife must have taken to do all this.

 

The eisbiber left before Nick could say anything else which was a pity since Nick had planned on begging the man to tell his wife not to worry about him, or to do anything else for him for the rest of the year. He scurried out to his truck and climbed in, driving away without offering anything in the way of goodbye.

 

“Nervous little fellow, isn’t he?” Hank asked from just behind Nick’s right shoulder.

 

Nick and the rest of the group chuckled it a little but it was Monroe who answered, “Dude, you have no idea.”

 

**oOo**

The group had just finished divvying everything up when the call came in. There was another brutal murder that just happened to be one of the people from a past case of Nick’s and Hank’s.

 

Hank left immediately, promising to meet Nick at the crime scene while he went home and grabbed his badge and gun. Nick moved the water bowl up to his bedroom and left some more scraps in another bowl just in case and then grabbed his own gun and badge and went to the backdoor for his coat. He heard the sound of the dog moving about in his bedroom above him but he ignored it as he slipped his leather coat on.

 

“So I suppose we’ll finish our conversation later then,” Monroe prompted while he and Rosalee began putting the leftovers from Thanksgiving away.

 

When they’d heard about the crime scene, they promised they’d take care of everything at Nick’s house, including the dog, while he took care of work. Nick knew that they wanted to be there to hear about the scene when he returned but he appreciated their offer anyways and took them up on it without question.

 

“What conversation?” Nick asked, honestly confused.

 

“Don’t play dumb,” Monroe said, mistaking Nick’s questions for a ruse. “The conversation you obviously don’t want to have about your captain and your feelings for him.”

 

Oh, Nick thought, that one. Yeah, he really _didn’t_ want to discuss any of that with Monroe or Rosalee. But he also knew that if anyone other than the Captain – who he was most definitely not talking to about this – would know what was going on, it was them and so he resigned himself to doing it eventually.

 

“Nick, we think we know what’s going on and if we’re right, you need to know about it,” Rosalee said in all seriousness.

 

Nick’s phone rang just as he was about to say something. “Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah, Hank, I’m just about to leave now. No, I’ll meet you there. Yeah, okay, bye.” He tucked his phone back into his pocket and then looked over at his friends. “I promise I am not running away from this conversation, but right now, I have to go.”

 

He left the kitchen and headed for the front door, stopping dead when he saw the dog, physically blocking it.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked her. “Don’t tell me you need to go again?” He opened the door to let her out, waiting until she was done before blocking the door with his own body. “Okay, I’ll be back soon,” he called to his friends in the kitchen. “Call me if you find out anything more than your hunches.”

 

And with that he left, shutting the door behind him. His heart dropped when he read the address he’d written down. It made him feel a little cold to think that he was suddenly wishing that the kid hadn’t been there and that it had been his father that had been killed instead but he couldn’t help it. Despite their major differences, Nick had liked the kid and had hoped that he’d go far once he’d gotten his life straightened out a bit.

 

With his truck engine turning over, Nick pulled away from the curb and with a heavy heart, began driving over to Roddy Geiger’s house.

 

**TBC**

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m amping up the warning once more since there is gore and mentions of a crime scene in this chapter. I’m putting it back to NC-17, possibly R, but this will be the only one for a bit.. I think. The next chapter definitely won’t be as violent. 
> 
> 2: Also, I stole (well, borrowed, really) the idea for the crime scene from an episode of Hannibal, also on NBC, I believe, though not right now. Given Roddy’s talent, I figured it fitting. 
> 
> 3: For those Roddy fans – don’t lose hope! :-)

**XIX**

The land on which Roddy lived looked to be the same as it had when Nick had last visited. At least, he thought so from what he could see in the dimness of the night. The only parts that were illuminated were the crime scene and about a one mile radius around it, the rest was plunged into darkness. Uniforms patrolled the outer rim of the scene, two of which waved Nick through, and the rest had a few dogs smelling around, looking for a potential lead on the killer.

 

Nick had just killed his engine when his phone rang. After checking to make sure it wasn’t Hank or the precinct, he answered it.

 

“Yeah,” he said, not bothering to identify himself since it was Monroe.

 

“Nick, hey, listen, Rosalee and I think we know what’s been going on with you,” Monroe said, the sound of his Beetle in the background.

 

“’What’s wrong with me’?” Nick quoted, confused. He had climbed out of his truck and started heading towards the crime scene but he stopped when that sentence filled his ears. Somehow he didn’t think this was something he wanted everyone else – or anyone else for that matter – overhearing.

 

“Yeah, you know, your feelings about your captain?” Monroe added, confirming Nick’s suspicions about eavesdroppers.

 

“Yeah, I knew what you meant, Monroe,” Nick assured, turning his back on everyone and walking a bit away to get some semblance of privacy. “I meant that I didn’t think anything was wrong with me.”

 

It surprised him but he was a bit offended by the implication that his attraction to the captain meant that there was something wrong with him. On some level, he knew that there _was_ something going on with him because up until a month ago, he hadn’t even thought of the captain that way. But the rest of him was wondering if he and that captain managed to start a relationship, if his friends would accept it. Going by Hank’s complete lack of reaction, Nick judged that his partner would be fine with it. But now he was worried about Monroe, which was ridiculous because if there was ever a “live and let live” kind of guy, it was Monroe.  

 

“Oh, well, yeah, there’s that,” Monroe said, his voice breaking just a little bit, showing his surprise at being corrected. “Anyways, we think we know what’s going on. We’re on our way to the Spice Shop right now to grab some books and then we’re going to go to the trailer.” Nick was about to open his mouth to say something when Monroe hurriedly added, “And don’t worry, we grabbed the dog. She’s currently in the backseat, comfortable as she could be, so she won’t be, you know, making a mess in the house while we’re gone or whatever.”

 

As happy as Nick was to hear that, the dog making a mess wasn’t what was in the forefront of his mind.

 

“You’re taking Rosalee to the trailer?” he asked, surprise vying for annoyance. He didn’t mind that someone else was going to the trailer but neither he nor Monroe had known this woman for very long and while she was nice _and_ helpful most of the time, Nick wasn’t sure that he wanted her at his aunt’s trailer just yet.

 

“Yeah,” Monroe answered, his voice cracking slightly again. Obviously he’d sensed Nick’s dislike at the idea of Rosalee at the trailer and he wasn’t sure how to assuage that. “Well, we need to take a look at some of your aunt’s books and it was either take them out of the trailer and take them to the Spice shop, and somehow I doubted that you wanted that, or take Rosalee and some books to the trailer.”

 

Nick had to admit that the blutbad had a good point. As much as he didn’t like the idea of Rosalee going to the trailer, he _really_ didn’t want any of the books leaving the trailer, leaving Monroe with one choice.

 

“Fine,” Nick conceded with a sigh, “just, no more, okay?”

 

“Yeah, no one else, promise,” Monroe said, sounding a little bit too chipper that Nick assented. “Hey, so did you want to meet us at the trailer when you finished or at the Spice Shop?”

 

“Look, it’s already,” Nick checked his watch, “seven, why don’t you just go home? If it’s something that you think can’t wait until the morning then meet me at my house; just let me knowthat you’re going to do that _before_ you do it, okay?”

 

“How’d you know?” Monroe asked, not thinking that Nick would be able to guess that he and Rosalee were already at the trailer.

 

“I may not be a super-grimm from your nightmares but I’m not an idiot,” Nick scoffed, hanging up before Monroe could say anything else.

 

“Everything okay?” Hank asked, having come up beside him during the tail-end of the conversation. He’d obviously changed since going home as he was now dressed in something a little more casual. His badge hung around his neck like it usually did and his gun was attached at his hip, snug in its holster.

 

“Yeah, just Monroe,” Nick dismissed, giving his partner a smile as he put his phone back into his pocket. “So what do we got?”

 

“Ephram Geiger, 52,” Hank filled in as they walked over to the trailer which was the apparent scene of the crime.

 

Nick was thankful for all the lights. He couldn’t imagine trying to walk through the area without them. Actually, he could, and it wouldn’t surprise him if the uni’s that arrived on scene had a few new bruises and scrapes. He and Hank picked their way throughout the trash that littered the ground – random planks, rat cages, etc – and went over to the trailer. The door was already ajar but from where he stood, Nick couldn’t see any crime scene.

 

“Cause of death?” he asked, getting the sense that Hank was leaving out a vital piece of the puzzle.

 

“See for yourself,” Hank invited, using his pen to point to the trailer.

 

With a feeling of trepidation, Nick walked in.

 

As opposed to the previous crime scenes, this one was neat. There was some blood along the walls but it looked to have been put there purposely. No doubt it was another message for Nick from the killer but he ignored it for now since he knew he wouldn’t be able to read it. Instead, he moved on to what passed for Roddy’s bedroom. Nick gave a silent sigh of relief when he saw that it had indeed been the kid’s father that had been killed and not Roddy himself. Although judging from the position the body was in, maybe he shouldn’t be so grateful.

 

Ephram Geiger was tied to a chair using rope that, if the dried mud was anything to go by, had been found outside and used on the fly. His back was arched as though he were in great pain and his eyes, blown wide in obvious fear, seemed to confirm it. His throat was cut but it was worse than that. It was flayed open, exposing his vocal chords which were lined up perfectly with the violin head that had been crammed down the man’s throat. The killer set everything up – including the bow in Geiger’s left hand – to make it look like the man could be playing his own vocal chords on the violin if he’d been physically able to.

 

The blood that smeared the walls was fresh and still dripping. Nick could hear the little pitter-patter as it slowly fell to the floor in innocuous drops. It drew his attention to the words that were written across the room, surrounding Geiger in his death. And this time, they were in English.

 

_Don’t worry – I’ll get the other one next time_

Nick had no idea what it meant but he had a suspicion. He left the trailer to go back to Hank, whom he knew had already seen the crime scene and wouldn’t be back in the trailer any time soon.

 

“Has anyone seen Roddy? Geiger’s son?” Nick asked as he exited.

 

“No,” Hank answered. “You think that’s what the message meant?”

 

Nick nodded. “I think the killer’s going to go after him next.”

 

“Wu!” Hank called, looking to his right where the sergeant was organizing something with the other uni’s. When Wu had come over, Hank asked, “Do we have a 20 on Geiger’s son?”

 

“Not yet,” Wu answered lightly. “All we know is that he isn’t here and he isn’t at the school.”

 

“Okay, put out an APB on the kid, I think he’s going to be next,” Nick instructed, shortly. He didn’t wait to explain himself and thankfully Wu didn’t question him; the sergeant had been working with Nick long enough to know that when Nick was giving him an order like that, it was for a good reason.

 

Though he doubted it, Nick wanted to make sure that Roddy wasn’t near in the woods, watching the whole thing from where he was perched. Nick didn’t think that Roddy was the type to hide when there was danger but he also knew that the kid didn’t like or trust cops and so if they were all here, it wasn’t likely that Roddy would be.

 

He walked to the edge of the scene, just east of where they were and looked out into the darkness. Just as he was beginning to give up on finding any sign of life out there, there was a flash of movement and what was obviously a person was off, running into the woods.

 

“Hank, I see someone!” Nick called before giving chase, crossing the stream that lay just behind the Geiger’s with little difficulty and taking off after the unknown person.

 

He knew from experience that the terrain was hard enough to maneuver in the daytime but it didn’t seem to slow him down any as he continued to run, pushing his legs to go faster and faster so that he didn’t lose the suspect. Holes were damn near impossible to see and so it didn’t surprise him when he stepped in a deep one, twisting his ankle a little in the process. The pain was sudden, but not strong, and the ankle still felt a little weak, letting Nick know that he’d be limping around for a bit.

 

A twig snapped to his left and up ahead and suddenly Nick felt fine. He ran up the shallow hill and disappeared into the trees, barely noticing when their branches scratched at his exposed face. His heart was now beating exceptionally fast and his breathing was slowly becoming labored but still he didn’t stop. Somehow he knew that the person was close and he wasn’t about to let their one and only possible lead so far in the case to vanish if he could help it.

 

Needing to stop and get his bearings for a moment – and catch his breath – Nick paused, listening intently for signs of the one he was chasing. He heard nothing, however, and so it came as a shock when deep, stinging pain struck his right cheek, quickly followed by a soft whistling sound and then stars blinding his vision.

 

It took him a moment to realize that he’d been kicked by the person he’d been chasing and that he was now on the forest floor. His head was throbbing mercilessly and it was making it hard to focus. But once he did, he got up and faced his attacker.

 

Even with the cloak-like coat, Nick could tell it was a woman. As he stood, she lowered her hood, revealing bushy brown hair full of curls, brown eyes hardened by experiences Nick couldn’t imagine, and a scarred face that could have once been quite beautiful. Though she’d been running for the same length of time he had, she was barely breathing hard. He couldn’t tell if she was just in incredible shape or if she was making an effort but the little puffs of heat on the air in front of her were slow, almost like they were controlled.

 

“Why are you watching us?” Nick asked as he started to move towards her. His hand moved towards his right side where his gun sat but he made a conscious effort not to grab it. He had the idea that it would be an incredibly bad idea to appear threatening to this woman.

 

She didn’t step back. In fact, she didn’t make a move. She stayed right where she was, not even making a sound.

 

“I’m Detective Nick Burkhardt of the Portland Police,” he introduced, wondering if that would make any difference at all. “Why were you watching us?”

 

He reached out a hand to touch her, wanting to physically check that she was alright, and that was when she sprang into action. A vice-like grip wrapped itself around his wrist and twisted, pulling the hand away from her arm and forcing him to step to his right a little to keep the grip as painless as possible. It was the opening she needed and she took it, using her head to crash against his, landing just to the left of his nose.

 

When he stumbled back, Nick took a second to orient himself and then he prepared for a fight that he knew she was going to give. However, she had more patience then he did and so it was him who acted first, taking a swing that left his left side open, allowing her to land a few good hits to his ribs. He blocked her third attempt, guarding his side from further abuse and swung again, this time landing a blow on her person. Her head snapped to the right a little when his fist hit her cheek but she quickly recovered, stopping his next hit by grabbing his hand and spinning him around so that he was against her, her arm loosely around his neck. She spun him away and waited for him to make the next move.

 

Done with the physical, Nick pulled out his gun, ready to arrest the woman for no less than assaulting a police officer.

 

“Nick,” the woman said, using his name as though she had a right to be so familiar with him. When he continued to hold the gun on her, she tried again, “Nicky, it’s me.”

 

Nick’s heart stopped, the air went out of his lungs as though they had a huge hole in them and his world seemed to crash around him.

 

“Mom?” he asked, confirming what he already knew. He technically already knew that she wasn’t dead and, yes, he’d essentially guessed that she was in Portland, but still, seeing her here and meeting her like this – it was a shock to say the least.

 

He lowered his gun but he didn’t do anything else. What else was there _to_ do when your mother whom you thought to be dead comes back to life after beating the crap out of you? Hug her? No. There were a lot of questions that needed answering, not the least of all was “where the hell have you been the past eighteen years?”, and Nick wasn’t about to ruin that opportunity by acting like a child.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not sure if that was the correct question to ask given the circumstances.

 

“I’ve been watching you,” she answered, her voice softening just a little. It almost sounded like she was fond of Nick, even after all this time, and wanted to get to know his life.

 

His breathing was beginning to get harder and, although he was no longer running, Nick knew that he couldn’t blame it on the hits to the side that he took. It was from pain that he struggled but it wasn’t from some bruises; it was a pain from the heart.

 

The past eighteen years had been hard. Believing both of your parents gone and being left with your aunt who seemed as cold as she was loving would have been hard for any kid. But for Nick, it seemed especially hard in the beginning. He’d just begun growing into a teenager, which was hard enough, and then having those you love taken from you like that – well, let’s just say that his teenage years were a bit harder than most.

 

Still, thanks to his aunt Marie, Nick made it through and came about the same person he had been becoming before the tragedy. It still hurt to think of them but it no longer felt like a black hole of sadness and pain that he could never escape.

 

And then Sean had come by and brought everything back. Nick hadn’t known how to feel when the captain had told him that his mother was in fact alive. He’d felt many things and now, seeing her, he still couldn’t decide. Right now he was bouncing between anger at her perceived betrayal to him and the need to do his job.

 

“I need you to come to the precinct and answer some questions,” Nick said, choosing to focus on his job since it was the simpler thing to do at the moment.

 

“I can’t do that,” she denied. She stepped forward and out of instinct, Nick pulled his gun back up and aimed it at her. She smiled at him, knowing the same thing he did – he could never shoot her. Not his own mother. Even so, she stopped her advance. Her posture straightened as though an invisible rod had been rammed inside her spine and her expression hardened.

 

“You shame your ancestors,” she said, a bit of anger coming through in her tone mixing with what sounded like sadness as well. “I’ve seen the way you treat the wesen around here and you are no grimm.” She cocked her head to the side looking thoughtful and then added, “Which I suppose is a good thing; I never wanted you to deal with this.”

 

“Well whether you wanted it to happen or not, it did, and I’ve been doing the best I can since I learned about it,” Nick replied, a little stung by her disapproval of him.

 

“I know,” she conceded, a sad smile coloring her voice. “But sometimes, it’s not enough. Like I’ve said, Nick, I’ve been watching you and I know that not only do you let them go, you’re _friends_ with them.”

 

She spat the words ‘friends’ out as though it were something dirty that should never be repeated and Nick felt a pang go through his heart. He remembered a person much different from this, growing up. What had happened to her that she has become… this?

 

Nick’s mom – no Kelly Burkhardt; he didn’t recognize any part of the mom he’d once known in this person before him – hung her head and shook it. Again, she stepped forward and Nick renewed his stance with his gun out before him. Her expression gave nothing away.

 

“You’re not a grimm, Nick; not a true one anyways,” she said, her tone now sounding imploring. “But I could teach you. I could help you to become what you are meant to be, to become like your ancestors.”

 

“You mean to become a killer-for-hire and someone who doesn’t think about the person they’re killing whether they are wesen or not?” Nick said, his own disgust at the idea coming through loud and clear. “No thanks. Aunt Marie told me to only hunt down the bad ones and I think that’s what I’ll stick to. I’ll let the law take care of the rest.”

 

Kelly cocked her head to the side, her eyes looking a little sad in the brightening moonlight.

 

“Pity,” she said. “I hope that before my mission is out, you’ll change your mind. And when you do, know that I will welcome you willingly and teach you as much as I can.” She stepped forward and Nick felt his grip on his gun tighten in response. “But for now, I’m sorry, Nick, but I can’t have you following me.”

 

Without warning, she advanced. Again, she twisted his wrist, this time making him drop his gun as pain shot through the joint and then flung his arm wide, leaving his torso open. Without waiting for him to react, she placed a well-aimed and vicious kick to his right knee, sending it collapsing underneath his weight with painful force and then placed a hard punch to the same spot she’d hit with her head earlier.

 

Reeling from all that had happened in a short amount of time and slightly dizzy from the blow to the head, Nick could do little to stop her as she disappeared into the night.

 

**oOo**

Hank heard Nick’s shout and turned just in time to see his partner take off. Without questioning what was going on, Hank followed. He hadn’t been that far behind when he saw Nick fall. Hank hadn’t known what was wrong but he also hadn’t spent too long thinking about it as almost as soon as he fell, Nick was back up and running again – albeit with a slight limp to his stride.

 

The detective was careful as he went up the same hill as Nick did. It didn’t take him long to know what had fallen his friend as he’d had trouble avoiding all the holes himself. He guessed that Nick hadn’t been so lucky and his ankle had taken the punishment for it. Still, it didn’t seem like the grimm had been too hurt and so Hank kept his focus on following his partner.

 

He weaved in and out of the trees, doing his best not to make a sound as he moved. He could barely hear much above his own ragged breathing – he really needed to get into better shape – but what he could hear was enough to keep him moving forward.

 

There were two pairs of footsteps ahead of him, both keeping pace with the other, although one sounded lighter than the other one which sounded uneven but heavier. Hank kept going in their direction, stopping in the far enough distance to not be spotted when he saw two figures ahead of him.

 

Nick was standing stock still, twisting his torso around to try and locate whomever he’d been pursuing. Hank had tried to call out to his partner when he saw the other person sneaking up on the grimm but he was too far away and he watched with a wince as Nick was knocked to the forest floor. Hank didn’t wait to see more, though he could, and soon he was making his way over to the couple.

 

Voices now trickled over to him and Hank could hear snatches of his conversation. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the other person identify themselves as Nick’s mom. Nick had told him about what the captain had said but until now, Hank hadn’t taken much stock in it; for all he knew it was a ploy the captain was using to get to Nick somehow. Now, though, Hank knew that he’d been wrong and that all the captain had been trying to do was be honest with Nick, which Hank supposed was a new thing for the captain since he seemed to be cloaked in mystery and lies.

 

Hank heard Nick’s heartbreak in the single word he’d spoken, repeating her name and Hank ached for his friend. When they’d first become partners, Nick hadn’t said much about his family, which of course only made Hank more curious. After a bit of investing, Hank discovered the reason why Nick didn’t talk about family and eventually he got Nick to tell him what had happened. The younger detective had been hard pressed to keep the tears out of his eyes when he’d related his past and at some point Hank had joked everything away just to relieve the tension. But it had still been blatantly obvious how much his parents’ deaths had affected Nick and so Hank had never brought it up again.

 

He stopped when he was close enough to Nick and his mother and tried to find a good position to attack from without crashing into Nick in the process. Thankfully the moon was starting to come out in full and it was shining through the leafless trees, reflecting off the snow without trouble. It served to illuminate the scene and everything around them, making it easier for all to see.

 

Nick’s mom said something about being willing to teach Nick how to be a true grimm, to which Nick had given a definite ‘no thanks’ to, and that was when Hank noticed the change in the woman. She seemed to be dejected by her son’s refusal, but her stance was preparing and her muscles were beginning to tighten. How Nick didn’t see it, Hank didn’t know but all he did know was that his partner was still standing stock-still, listening to his mother as she spoke.

 

It came as no surprise when Nick’s mom moved swiftly and with accuracy. Hank watched Nick go down without a fight and a part of Hank wondered how a mother could do that to her child. Another part wanted to chase after her to try and arrest her for assaulting an officer and bring her in to the precinct for questioning about the murders. But the last part won over, stopping to check and make sure that Nick was okay first.

 

“Nick,” he called as he reached his fallen partner. “Hey, you okay?”

 

It was a stupid question when it was obvious that the man was in pain but it was much easier to ask that then to stop and physically check to make sure Nick would be alright while he went off to chase after Nick’s mom.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nick assured, his face a mask of pain and his teeth gritted against it. “Go!”

 

Hank hesitated for all of thirty seconds before he took off in the direction he saw Nick’s mom go. It didn’t take him too long of running to figure out that he’d lost her before he’d had the chance to find her. He was certain that she’d planned it that way and had plenty of opportunity to practice her skills at moving with little sound. He kept running, however, for another five minutes. Then he called it and went back to Nick, stopping in his tracks a ways away at what he saw.

 

Heading straight for Nick was a man. From where he stood Hank had thought it had been the captain, going by the walk alone. But then he saw large – one could almost say gigantic – wings unfold and that was when Hank felt his heart stop and his breath catch.

 

He waited for a minute, watching the creature as it walked right up to Nick and knelt beside him. A rather human-looking arm stretched out and grazed the left side of Nick’s face where Hank knew from having watched the scene unfold that the grimm had a bruise there. The gentle way in which the creature touched Nick made Hank feel like he was intruding and so he backed off a bit. He decided to give trying to track down Nick’s mom another try, figuring he’d give it another ten minutes and then he’d go back to Nick.

 

That should be enough time for a tender moment.

 

Without further ado, Hank crept away, trying to keep himself as quiet as he could, and melted into the night.

 

**TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter XX**

Sean had been on his way to the crime scene when he’d smelled it. It wafted on the air like a poison, choking him and making him struggle for a breath of fresh air. Unlike the last time Sean had smelled it, there was no copper alongside the vile scent and so he knew that there was no blood drawn but there was no mistaking it – Nick was in pain.

 

Not really needing to go to the crime scene – he’d only been called because he’d instructed Wu to do so next time there was a murder in connection with the Rabes – Sean pulled off a small, inconspicuous side road and parked. The smell on the air strengthened and Sean knew that he was closer to Nick here than he would have been at the poor excuse for a home where the reinigen lived.

 

Once he was sure he was alone, Sean climbed out of the car. He pulled off his coat, suit jacket, shirt, undershirt and tie. His skin prickled a little in the chill of the winter air but other than that he hardly felt the cold. After taking another look around, Sean unfolded his wings, wrapping them around himself to preserve warmth, and started following Nick’s scent.

 

It wasn’t hard to find Nick and very soon he found the grimm leaning against a tree. He was shivering quite violently, though it was obvious he was trying not to. His blue eyes snapped up to meet Sean as he approached but he made no other move. Either he was too frozen to do so or he just didn’t care; Sean guessed that it was probably a mixture of both. Nick tried to move, to straighten or appear less vulnerable, Sean didn’t know, but he soon stopped with pain on his face and teeth clenched.

 

“What happened?” Sean asked as he knelt down. Slowly, so that Nick could stop him if he wanted to, he reached out and brushed soft, warm fingers against Nick’s cooling skin, grazing them over where a good-sized bruise was starting to form on the detective’s cheek and eye.

 

To Sean’s surprise, Nick didn’t stop him. Instead he watched, eyes tracking as much of every move as they could. Sean could hear Nick’s heart rate increase and though he hoped it was from pleasure, he wasn’t altogether sure. Taking a chance, the regnant continued his very physical examination, moving his hand from the grimm’s face to his side where Sean could smell a bruise blooming.

 

“My mother,” Nick answered, his breath hitching a little as Sean pressed on the tender area.

 

Under his fingers, Sean felt the man shivering quite badly and so he stopped his examination in favor of indulging another need he felt growing – the need to get Nick warm. The question was how to do it. Sean tended to favor commands, not giving the other person a choice or a chance to say no. But he doubted that would work for Nick so he was hesitant to do so. And yet, he was beginning to wonder if anything would actually happen – to the negative or the positive – if he continued going against what was natural for him.

 

“So your eyes really _do_ change color,” Nick commented, bringing Sean’s focus back to the present.

 

“Yeah,” Sean answered, eyes now tracing every other part of Nick to determine if there was anything blatantly physically wrong with Nick before he moved him. He wasn’t actually sure which color his eyes had changed to, but he doubted that that really mattered all that much at the moment and so he didn’t ask.

 

Nick blinked, taking the answer in. He was quiet while he thought, which seemed to emphasize the sound of his shivering in Sean’s ears.

 

“Sit up,” Sean commanded. He knew that direct body heat was best for getting Nick warm, but he also knew that they wouldn’t be in the position to stay leaning against the tree long and so it wouldn’t be necessary to have the man take off what little clothing that was serving to keep him warm in the first place.

 

Oh yes, Sean had heard Hank in the distance and he knew that the detective would be back soon. There wasn’t any way Hank was going to be able to track down Kelly Burkhardt in the moonlit forest and they both knew it – probably Nick too – but he appreciated Hank’s efforts in trying. It was probably just to give him and Nick some privacy which only served to make Sean that much more appreciative – though he’d never say it aloud.

 

“Why?” Nick asked, making Sean give a little smile. Even freezing and in pain, Nick questioned orders.

 

“So that I can sit behind you,” Sean answered, unfolding his wings again and making Nick eyes widen. Apparently the grimm hadn’t noticed them before which was odd since Sean wasn’t exactly trying to hide them.

 

“You have wings?” Nick asked, his eyes still wide in apparent awe. As he spoke, he scooted forward as much as he could, stopping almost immediately with his mouth open in a silent cry of pain.

 

The tang on the air made Sean wrinkle his nose at the sheer amount of it and this time he knew his eyes had begun to glow red. What he wouldn’t love to do to Kelly Burkhardt right now… Sean and the regnant within shivered at the anticipation of what he’d be able to do to her. Not just for the pain she’d caused Nick – and in more ways than one – but also for the disruption she’d brought down on his city. Of course, Sean was pretty sure that she wasn’t acting alone. He was certain that she was working for his brother once again and that made him even angrier.

 

“I would have thought you would have noticed that the minute I walked up to you,” Sean commented as he sat behind Nick, gently pulling the grimm back into him and then wrapping his wings around them both.

 

They both shivered this time as Nick’s cold clothing sunk into Sean and the heat from Sean’s body and wings seeped into Nick. It was ridiculous how good this felt, holding on to Nick, and Sean allowed a decent smile to broaden his face, knowing that the grimm wouldn’t be able to see it.

 

“Yeah, well, I was a bit busy trying not to move,” Nick countered, his voice a little stronger now that he wasn’t shivering so much. A pleased sigh escaped him before he could stop it but Sean wasn’t fool enough to believe that it was because of him. No doubt it was because Nick was warm and comfortable.

 

Sean nodded, knowing that Nick would feel it in his hair. In spite of his resolve to show little to no emotion with regards to the grimm, Sean held him closer, a little tighter while still being gentle. “How badly are you hurt?”

 

“Well, let’s just say that I won’t be walking on my own two feet for a couple of weeks and leave it at that,” Nick retorted with a wry grin in his voice. Sean could tell that Nick was angry but he wasn’t sure what about and so he didn’t comment on it.

 

Again, Sean nodded to show that he’d heard. Somehow, he doubted that Nick would be back on his feet that quickly – after all, he knew just how hard Kelly could hit and while she was a woman, she was no weakling – but he didn’t push the matter. Right now, the main priority was to get Nick out of the woods and possibly to the hospital, if not at home. And in order to do so, Sean needed to know how badly Nick was hurt.

 

“Leg?” he asked, figuring that being succinct would be easier for Nick than using complete sentences.

 

“Knee,” Nick answered.

 

He shifted a little, but surprisingly it wasn’t to get away from Sean, it was closer. Sean happily pulled him in further, careful not to press too hard on Nick’s left side. A sigh of his own escaped and he winced at the sound. The last thing he wanted was for Nick to know just how pleasant he found it to be holding the man since that would more than likely put the man off anything that could potentially happen. But it had come out without his permission and his grip tightened just a little in response to his anger.

 

Nick chuckled a little but he didn’t say anything, leaving Sean to wonder what had made him laugh.

 

“I lost her,” Hank said, announcing his presence as he came jogging lightly through the woods.

 

Like earlier, Sean had heard Hank coming and he’d heard the man stop a ways away to sit and watch them for a moment before continuing to their position. Sean gave a slight nod at Hank, who returned it without pause.

 

“I guess you’ve been initiated,” Sean stated when he realized how completely unsurprised Hank was to see him with wings.

 

“You could say that,” Hank answered, coming to kneel in front of Nick. “How you doing?”

 

“I’d be better if I got out of the snow,” the grimm answered, a small smile warming his voice.

 

“Let’s get you to the car then,” Hank answered, making it sound like they should have been doing that already.

 

“No,” Sean denied. Despite how much he wanted to, he didn’t tighten his grip on Nick. It wouldn’t have been necessary, however, as the grimm didn’t really try pulling away. He did shift a little to pivot his torso and look up at Sean in surprise.

 

When he knew that he had the attention of both men, Sean explained, “Your cars are too far and Nick has already admitted that he wouldn’t be going too far on his injured leg.”

 

At this Hank tossed a questioning look at his partner who must have given him the equivalent of a shrug as he quickly turned his focus back on his boss. “So what do you suggest?”

 

Sean shifted so that he was no longer sitting behind Nick and stood up. His wings opened with a flourish, releasing the grimm and then settled in a relaxed position behind his back before swiftly coming round to envelop him. It hadn’t been the best idea for him to abandon his clothing but he would have just destroyed them by releasing his wings anyways and so it didn’t make sense to keep them on.

 

“My truck is closer,” he said, his chin jutting out just a little bit in a silent dare for either man to question why. Not surprisingly, neither did.

 

“Where am I going once I get there?” Nick asked, apparently not trusting Sean’s intentions.

 

Sean stopped a smile from coming to his face, though he did allow a small smirk. “From there you will go to the hospital where you will be checked out before going home.”

 

“And I will be sticking around to make sure you cooperate like the good little boy that you are,” Hank teased.

 

“Actually, you won’t,” Sean answered, having no intention whatsoever of leaving Nick alone for the moment. “You’ll need to go back to the crime scene and make sure that you have everything you need to locate Geiger’s kid and then you’re going to go back to the precinct and write up a report about what happened here.”

 

“And I’m doing that because?” Hank challenged, obviously not liking the idea of being sent away like a child.

 

“Because I am your commanding officer and I told you to,” Sean answered, rising to the challenge. His tone left no room for argument and his eyes shifted a little into a red that promised a fight if he was defied again. He normally didn’t have such a problem keeping his control but something about the injured grimm – who was now stubbornly struggling to stand up – to his left made him more testy than he would like and Hank pushing boundaries that he didn’t know existed wasn’t helping matters.

 

Hank straightened at the command. His posture practically saluted for him but his brown eyes blazed with some sort of emotion that Sean didn’t care about translating at the moment. He looked over at Nick and waited for the grimm to give him a nod of reassurance that he’d be alright before he turned back to Sean.

 

“Yes sir,” he said, his tone somewhat sarcastic. He turned to Nick, saying, “I’ll call you later?”

 

“Yeah, sounds fine,” Nick responded, giving his partner a smile. He tried to step forward so that he was more a part of the group but he stopped almost as soon as he’d started with a grimace, going back to being supported by the tree.

 

Hank left without another word to Sean or Nick and it was then that Sean put his control back in place.

 

“So how do you want to do this?” Nick asked from over Sean’s shoulder.

 

Sean turned around in time to see Nick give a wince and then tried to shift so that he could favor various aches. With a sigh, Sean approached the grimm and, not bothering to explain what he was doing, scoped said grimm into his arms and wrapped his wings back around them both. He was gentle and made sure to cause Nick as little pain as possible but he could still tell that Nick was uncomfortable with the situation.

 

“Um, okay, this is a bit awkward,” Nick said, voicing his discomfort. “I _can_ walk you know.”

 

“No you can’t and you know it so sit back and enjoy the ride because it’s not going to happen again,” Sean discounted, knowing for a fact that Nick couldn’t tolerate weight on his leg at the moment.

 

They reached Sean’s truck in the same time that it had taken Sean to get to Nick. Despite his solid build, Sean had no trouble carrying the man. He wasn’t light by any means but with Sean’s wesen-assisted strength, he wasn’t that much of a trouble to carry either.

 

He set Nick down as gently as he could, waiting until the man was balanced against the SUV before he opened the door. He actually opened the back door, hoping that Nick would sit in the back where he could stretch and elevate his leg. But when Nick gave him an eyebrow raise of disbelief, Sean closed the back door and opened the passenger door instead.

 

Knowing that his help wouldn’t be appreciated from here on out, Sean went over to the driver’s side and waited until Nick had climbed in, closed the door and buckled in before he started the vehicle and pulled away.

 

The right to the hospital was quiet but not uncomfortable. Both men were lost within their own minds, thinking about whatever they chose. For his part, Sean was on a constant loop of whether to imagine what he could to do his brother or Kelly for the chaos they both have caused and the way it felt to have Nick in his arms. The former was doing nothing for him but making him angrier and so he chose to focus on the latter.

 

He knew it was the bond working for them both but it felt right to have the grimm lying against him, practically snuggling. All the worries that constantly plagued his mind as well as his political and wesen duties to, well, everyone, had moved into the background and Sean had felt himself finally relax for the first time in a long time. Sean just wished he knew how Nick had felt about the entire thing.

 

The entire situation was beginning to drive him crazy, actually. He could feel the bond working through him and he could actually feel – somehow – it working through Nick, though whether or not the rim could feel it was another matter entirely. It was wearing on Sean a bit to have these feelings and desires – to feel his plans slowly changing from not just having the grimm at his side for political purposes but for personal ones as well – and to not be able to act on them because the other half was still fighting against what his own instincts and mind was telling him.

 

Holding on to Nick, though, had calmed that frustration. It had quenched his desire for Nick like a thirst and sated his soul as though it had been in need of a good meal.

 

The SUV hit a bump and Nick’s breath hitched as his various injuries were jostled. Sean still didn’t know exactly how hurt the man beside him was but as far as he was concerned, _any_ injury was too much and shouldn’t be there in the first place.

 

“Sorry,” Sean said though they both knew that it wasn’t his fault. Annoyingly enough, he still felt bad for causing Nick pain which could potentially mean bad things for his future plans for his career and reign.

 

“I’m fine,” Nick assured with a strained but sincere smile and Sean immediately refrained from pointing out that the younger man was indeed the opposite from fine. Yes, he would eventually be fine but that was after he had gotten some medical and home care.

 

Silence once again descended upon the two and this time it made Sean squirm a little, though not physically. His desire to know what Nick was thinking was beginning to pull on him and he was tempted just to be blunt and come out with it but it went against his nature and so he kept silent.

 

“Look,” Nick said, however, breaking the silence for him. “I honestly have no idea what this thing is between us. And I’ll admit that it’s getting a little tiring to fight it but until I understand it, I have no intention of acting on it.”

 

At this, Sean smirked but he didn’t say anything. The fact that Nick was acknowledging that something was going on between them was a good sign. It meant that he was slowly starting to accept that things could progress from their current work relationship to something more and that bode well for the both of them. But the fact of the matter was  that Nick _was_ still fighting it, no matter how little, and that was only going to draw things out more so than they needed to be and it could mean potentially dangerous things for the both of them, though Nick didn’t know that yet.

 

Pierre was slowly moving things into place. Sean knew it. And whenever Pierre had accomplished whatever he wanted to, Sean wanted the advantage of the bond with Nick to help them both out when the time came.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw Nick raise his eyebrows again.

 

“You aren’t going to deny that anything is happening?” he asked, surprised by the fact.

 

“I’m not the one that’s been denying things from the beginning, Nick,” Sean reminded, turning a corner and pulling up to the ER entrance. He put the SUV in park and then instructed, “Wait here.”

 

“Why?” Nick questioned.

 

“Because you are not up to walking on your leg and I had gotten the impression from the last time that you didn’t want to be carried in,” Sean supplied, his tone making it sound like that should have been obvious. “Now wait here while I go get a wheelchair for you.”

 

He opened the door and got out. Instead of immediately walking inside, however, Sean stopped by the passenger side and opened the door. His expression was soft, almost loving, as he promised, “We aren’t done talking about this, Nick. But for now, we are.”

 

With that he went into the emergency room and grabbed one of the empty wheelchairs he could find. He had every intention of explaining what was going on between them but here, at the hospital, was not the place to do it. Indeed, Sean planned on pushing the staff to get Nick in and out as fast as possible rather than making the man wait for hours on end as they were prone to doing. He had no desire to postpone their talk any more than Nick did and he wished to get back to it sooner rather than later.

 

It was too bad for him that he hadn’t known about Nick’s plans for when after he was finished with the Geiger crime scene. They meant that the talk would not be coming from him.

 

**oOo**

Pierre Renard sat in his lush hotel room, sipping a glass of a Cabernet Sauvignon with Vivaldi playing idly in the background. On his lap sat a book – Sun Tsu actually – but it was barely open as his mind had wandered in other directions. His dinner with Adalind a few weeks ago had gone remarkably well and since then they have had several more meetings, some of a less unsavory nature. Unsavory, but necessary.

 

Adalind was obviously not content to remain where she was, potentially under Sean’s thumb. She as ambitious and beautiful and she knew how to work both to her favor. She appealed to Pierre first as a lawyer, claiming that she could be helpful in his business dealings as well as his wesen ones. Once she had convinced him that she would be a valuable employee in that respect, she began working her charms on him. Well, her charms had very little effect, actually, but he wasn’t above sleeping with her and so he’d done just that, many times. He suspected that she was hoping to trap him with a pregnancy and if that was indeed her hope than she would be disappointed.

 

If there was one thing and one thing only that Pierre was jealous of his older brother and sister for, it was their ability to have children. When he’d been little, Pierre had been victim to an accident which knocked out his ability to produce an heir. At the time he hadn’t found it to be a problem because he’d been too young to really understand the consequences. Now, however, he understood them far too well and while it did mean that he was free to do whomever he wished, it also meant that whoever ruled after him, it would be no son of his.

 

On the table beside the couch, his phone beeped and with a drawn-out sigh of annoyance, he picked it up. It was a text message from a spy he’d acquired at the Treeview Hospital in Portland. Pierre took a moment to congratulate himself on being wise enough to do such a thing and then he read the message. His face darkened as his anger rose and as soon as he’d finished the message, he dialed the phone.

 

 _“Yes,”_ Kelly Burkhardt answered without preamble.

 

“I thought I told you to stay away from the grimm,” he lectured, doing his best to reign in his temper.

 

 _“I know,”_ she acknowledged, though not sounding apologetic at all for it. _“And I would have done but he followed me into the woods and caught up with me. I had to do something otherwise we wouldn’t be talking right now.”_

“And that is better than our current circumstance, how?” Pierre retorted, not seeing the plus side.

 

 _“I can continue the mission,”_ she replied simply, apparently not seeing what his problem was with the entire thing.

 

“When I sent you to Portland, it was not my intention for you to make contact with the grimm nor was it a part of your job to keep pushing him in the direction of my brother and yet you have done both and extremely well on the latter part. They are both at a hospital and if I know my brother, he will use the grimm’s injured state to get closer to him and that is not something that I need.”

 

 _“What would you have me do?”_ she asked, ready to take orders.

 

“I think that you’ve done enough for now, wouldn’t you agree?” Pierre sneered, still trying to come up with a way to rectify the situation. Unfortunately he could not and so he did the only thing that he believed himself able to do. “I believe it may be time to push up our timetable and bring in Sergio. He can finish the job that you seem so incapable of finishing.”

 

 _“Pierre, please,”_ Kelly said, her voice pleading as much as she would allow it to.

 

Sergio Vasquez was a very helpful contact that Pierre had made during one of his trips to the South Americas. The Frenchman couldn’t quite remember where he’d met the assassin but what he did remember was being impressed with the way Sergio had taken out five reapers in one sitting without blinking an eye. He was tough and emotionless and a grimm – precisely the man that Pierre needed now. Kelly had been a wise choice but he hadn’t counted on the woman reconnecting with her son quite as quickly as she had done and now she was nothing more than a liability.

 

“Enough,” Pierre silenced, not wanting to hear any potential argument she could contrive. “I am afraid that your time in Portland is finished, my dear grimm. Be gone before dawn or I will have Sergio add you to his to-do list. I’m sure he won’t mind adding one more victim.”

 

 _“And where will I be going?”_ she countered, not sounding pleased at all.

 

“I believe my father has need of you,” he answered, knowing that she would know the location from that statement alone. “He has some rather…troubling matters at home that he may need your help with. Perhaps you can prove yourself most useful there.”

 

There was silence on the other end while Kelly processed what she was being told. They both knew that Luc Renard had many enemies back in Germany and his way of dealing with them was hunting them down like the vermin he assumed they were. If they were important enough, politically, Luc would have them tortured for information but if they were nothing more than henchmen, they would be executed. Either way, both Luc and Pierre preferred to have a grimm do their dirty work; especially one that worked for them under contract and pain of death like Kelly Burkhardt.

 

 _“Very well,”_ she finally answered, though they both knew that she really didn’t have much of a choice.

 

“Good,” Pierre purred, not entirely pleased but more so than he had been at the start of this entire conversation. “Oh and Kelly? Thank you for making catching your son easier for Sergio. You know how he hates to run and from what I understand, Nickolas Burkhardt won’t be running for quite some time.”

 

He hung up the phone so that she couldn’t respond to that and sneered.

 

In all actuality, Sergio preferred the chase. He liked it when his prey could and would fight back and didn’t give in too easily. And while the grimm of Portland _was_ injured and will, apparently, not be returned to full health for well over a month, that was alright as Sergio had a list of a few other prey to go after beforehand which would give Nickolas time to heal and get back to full strength before it was his turn.

 

With a now-contented sigh, Pierre picked up his wine glass and took another appreciative sip. Plans didn’t always come together like you wanted them to, but with enough planning, they ended precisely how you meant them to and if there was one thing Pierre was good at – it was planning.

 

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter XXI**

Monroe paced back and forth in Nick’s living room, rubbing his hands together or along the sides of his jeans. It hadn’t taken him or Rosalee that long to find what they had been looking for and so they had been sitting at Nick’s house for about an hour now, waiting for him to return. Less than five minutes ago, Hank had called asking if Nick had come home yet. Monroe had panicked a little when it seemed that the detective had been expecting his partner to be there and he wasn’t. He’d begun wondering if something bad had happened to Nick and no one had known about it. But then Hank had explained what had happened in the woods and Monroe began to figure that things had just taken extra-long at the hospital like they always tended to.

 

The dog – and really? Couldn’t they come up with a name for the poor animal yet? – sat beside the couch, watching Monroe with every turn he made. She was looking at him expectantly but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was that she wanted. While they’d been out, Monroe and Rosalee had grabbed some kibble so that the poor thing didn’t have to live off leftovers for the rest of the weekend and she now had proper food and water sitting in the kitchen by the back door if she wanted it.

 

“Monroe, sit down,” Rosalee calmly bid, though she did sound a bit tired. “I’m sure Nick will be back any second.”

 

“You’re right,” Monroe granted, doing his best to stop fidgeting and sat down on the couch next to her. “I’m sure Nick will pull up any moment now.”

 

It had taken another half an hour for that to become reality and when he did, Monroe had stood in shock when he’d also seen Nick’s captain accompanying him.

 

For the most part, Nick seemed well. He was once again on crutches, his right leg in a brace that surrounded his knee and his shoe was off suggesting that maybe something was also wrong with his ankle or foot but other than that – and was that a bandage around his wrist as well? – he seemed perfectly fine.

 

Knowing that Nick wouldn’t be able to – or at least he shouldn’t be doing it – open the door on his own, Monroe got up to do that for him. Nick’s face expressed brief surprise but the most of it was held in the regnant’s expression, though he barely showed it. Monroe made sure to avoid as much eye contact as possible with the royal but it was hard as the man was outright staring – one might even say glaring, actually – at him.

 

“So what’s the prognosis? You gonna live?” Monroe teased as Nick crutched his way into the house with the captain following closely behind.

 

Nick smiled, though it seemed tired and strained, at his attempt to avoid the awkwardness that seemed to fill the room.

 

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna live,” he returned, making the answer show just how ridiculous Monroe’s question had been. “It’s just a sprain. I’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

 

Behind him, the royal damn near rolled his eyes.

 

“You have a deep, partial tear in your LCL, Nick, and a decent sized tear in your ankle. The doctor said that you _might_ be able to start doing some strengthening exercises then, not that you’d be fine.”

 

For once, Monroe was glad that the regnant was there because if he hadn’t been, Monroe would have easily believed that Nick would have been fine in a few weeks and would have let him pretend that he was so. Now that he knew the truth, however, the likelihood of anything of the sort happening wasn’t very. And though he wasn’t going to be going into mother-hen mode, he certainly wasn’t going to be allowing the grimm to do anything that might cause further damage to himself either.

 

Nick did roll his eyes at the captain’s correction and proceeded to balance precariously on one leg while he shed his coat. Monroe stifled a smile or a comment when he noticed that the captain was staying quite close to Nick, perhaps ready in case the man fell tipped onto his injured side. Though that may have been the logical reason for the close proximity, Monroe could tell that it wasn’t the main reason. The plain and simple fact was that Renard wanted to be that near to Nick and if Nick’s lack of complaint about it was anything to go by, Nick wanted to be that near to Renard.

 

Well wasn’t that interesting? He wondered what had happened that had the two men acting on their instincts for once instead of fighting them. When he looked over at Rosalee, who stood just to his left, he could tell that she was thinking the same thing but while he was trying to hide his smile, she was doing no such thing.

 

“So sprained ankle and pretty badly sprained knee, anything else I should know about?” Monroe asked, filing the information away just in case.

 

“No, I’m fine,” Nick said but the captain soon answered for him, “He has a pretty deep bruise on his left side but other than that and the two mentioned before, he’ll be alright.”

 

“Uhuh, and what about his wrist?” Monroe asked, noticing that Nick was doing his best not to favor the hand while using the crutches.

 

“It was pretty harshly twisted but it should be fine within a week or so.” The captain stood where he’d been from the start – by the front door, though with no apparent desire or intention to leave. His eyes followed Nick like a hawk as the grimm slowly and carefully made his way over to the couch where he gingerly sat down, elevating his leg onto the soft cushions. The regnant’s posture never relaxed for a second the entire time; his back was straight and his shoulders were strong; his hands remained inside his pants pockets and his feet stayed hip-distance apart. Actually, the man _appeared_ relaxed but Monroe knew it to be different and so he hadn’t considered it to be anything but.

 

“Uh, I am right here you know. You don’t need to talk about me like I’m a child that you’re passing from one person’s custody to the other,” Nick groused, looking annoyed but still tired.

 

“We wouldn’t have to if you would just admit your injuries and not try to pass them off as nothing,” the regnant easily returned.

 

On the couch, Nick sighed. The sound seemed to register with Rosalee who slipped her hand within Monroe’s and started to pull him towards the door.

 

“We should go and let you get some rest,” she cooed at Nick, her mothering side coming out a bit at the sight of a friend, granted a new one, in pain.

 

“Wait, wasn’t there something you guys wanted to tell me?” Nick asked, now looking confused.

 

At a sharp look from Renard, Monroe knew that either him or Rosalee telling Nick anything wasn’t an option. He slipped his coat on and then helped Rosalee put hers on as well, smiling.

 

“It can wait,” he answered, throwing a look over at the royal who stared far too evenly for the emotions he was projecting back. “Somehow, I don’t think we’re the correct people to tell you anyways.”

 

“Okay,” Nick said, sounding like he didn’t really understand what was going on. He cocked his head to the left and in doing so, looked at his captain. Something about the man’s expression must have told him what Monroe wouldn’t say because the confused expression cleared from his face and a smile replaced. “Well, thanks for stopping by.”

 

“No problem,” Monroe said. “Oh! We grabbed food for the dog while we were out. And dude, you really need to name the poor thing because simply calling her ‘the dog’ isn’t going to cut it for long.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Monroe saw the captain give as much of a surprised expression as the man would allow and it made Monroe smile a little. Apparently the royal hadn’t noticed the yellow lab sitting like a statue at the end of the couch. Suddenly wondering if the dog was still there, Monroe turned to look and found the spot empty. He was actually a little surprised that the animal hadn’t come to the door to greet Nick when he’d gotten home but then again, with whatever Renard was giving off, all Monroe wanted to do was escape so he imagined the dog felt the same way.

 

“Yeah,” Nick agreed, showing the blutbad that he already knew that. Something in his expression – which he was trying to hide by bowing his head – said that he wasn’t wanting to get too attached to the dog in case she had an owner but Monroe had no such misgivings. If that sweet animal had an owner, they would have tried to find her by now. Going by the level of starvation Monroe saw in the dog, he guessed that she had been living on the streets for at least a week if not much longer. Still, he couldn’t blame the grimm for being cautious and so he didn’t mention any of his thoughts.

 

When Nick looked back up, he had a smile back on his face. “Thanks Monroe. Sorry if this ruined your Thanksgiving.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Monroe scoffed, “I once had a Thanksgiving where two of my cousins ended up dead. Granted, no one missed them but still, you get my point. This one was actually nice in comparison.”

 

Nick smiled but said no more and so Monroe took that as his cue to leave. Rosalee offered the grimm a gentle smile and bid him to feel better and then the pair left. They both let loose sighs of relief once they were outside as being in there with the royal practically shining with alpha mojo, silently warning them off for the time being was beginning to be stifling.

 

“Well, I should probably go home,” Rosalee said, pointing to her car which was now parked in between Monroe’s beat up Beetle and the regnant’s SUV.

 

“Yeah, I should too,” Monroe said somewhat unenthusiastically. He actually didn’t want Rosalee to go home to her own apartment but he wasn’t about to say that in case it should make her nervous. Luckily they had both agreed to a lunch at the shop where they could put away the newest deliver that was destined to come in and so Monroe wouldn’t have to wait too long before he could see her again. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah,” she replied with a soft but warm smile. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She waited for a moment and then she leaned up and gave Monroe a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good night,” she said, blushing slightly before going to her car.

 

Monroe’s cheek burned where she’d kissed him and he knew that he had the dumbest look on his face as he put his hand on the spot but he couldn’t help it. It had been extremely chaste and sweet, but it left him wanting more and suddenly Monroe looked forward to their lunch date tomorrow more than he could have ever imagined.

 

**oOo**

“Here.”

 

Sean’s voice broke through Nick’s tired stupor, bringing him back to reality with painful clarity. Bleary blue eyes opened to find the police captain standing in front of him holding a mug of steaming coffee. Nick gave the older man a confused expression. Not exactly sure why he’d need coffee, Nick slowly reached out to grab the mug, wincing a little as the weight settled onto his hurt wrist.

 

Above him, the captain did his equivalent of a shrug.

 

“I figured you’d want to be awake so we could talk about what was going on,” he explained, disappearing into the kitchen. His voice had no trouble carrying throughout the house as he continued, “Aftering seeing how tired you’re getting, I figured you’d need the coffee.”

 

Silently, Nick conceded that the man was right but it still bothered him that his boss felt comfortable enough to make a cup of coffee without asking him.

 

“And you just thought, ‘I know, I’ll make a cup of coffee in a house that isn’t mine’?” Nick asked, voicing his concerns with a bit of sarcasm thrown in just for the fun of it.

 

He shifted on the couch, clenching his teeth when the pain in his leg ramped up from just over tolerable to ‘Don’t do that again!’ Much to his chargrin, Nick was going to have to remember to be gentle with that leg for the next week or so. He honestly doubted the doctor’s diagnosis for just how long he’d be down and so he wasn’t counting on being on crutches that long. Not that he wouldn’t be in pain but pain was something Nick could handle and with the way his life was going lately, it looked like it was going to become a close, personal friend.

 

Nails on the floor told Nick that the dog – Monroe was right, he _really_ needed to name the poor thing – was heading downstairs. In no time she was sitting in front of the couch, pushing her cold, wet nose against his hand. In a fluid motion Nick’s hand floated up to the top of her golden head and proceeded to glide down her spine until his arm could no longer reach. Out of repetition he repeated the process, staring idly into her brown eyes.

 

“Hey there,” he said quietly, talking to the dog since it seemed the captain had no intention of answering him. “How was your night, huh? I heard you went on a road trip.”

 

The dog licked his hand as it moved from her back to her head. After she’d finished, she leaned hesitantly and licked her tongue out. It was as though she were asking permission to lick his face. Nick smiled, appreciating that she was grateful but he shook his head.

 

“No,” he said. “Not the face.”

 

Her ears went back and she readjusted so that her head was at a more natural angle. How she managed it, Nick didn’t know but she actually looked sad that he wouldn’t let her lick his face. Well, if she thought the guilt trip would work on him, she was wrong. Nick didn’t mind dog licking, but he did _not_ allow it on his face.

 

Sean’s footsteps sounded from the kitchen, coming closer, and the dog turned around, putting her back to Nick and facing the new person head on. Instead of being docile and happy but shy like she’d been with Hank, Monroe and Rosalee, her hackles rose and she bared her teeth. No growl escaped her throat – yet – but Nick assumed that that was only a matter of time.

 

For his part, Sean stopped to face the dog. His back straightened as his posture grew proud and tall. He watched the dog, practically staring the dog down. Either that or he was daring her to attack him.  

 

As though accepting the challenge, the dog growled, quiet at first but growing in volume the longer Sean continued to stand there, staring at her.

 

“Hey, Kylie, that’s enough,” he commanded, firm and loud enough to get her attention. He wasn’t exactly sure where the name Kylie had come from but he winced when he realized how close to Kelly it sounded. It wasn’t a surprise, really, given the encounter he’d just had with his mother, but the last thing he wanted was a constant reminder of the mother he’d lost and doubted he’d get back.

 

Kylie’s body snapped out of the tense, attack-ready, position she’d been in and she looked over at him. She stared for a few minutes and then proceeded to sit down at the end of the couch where his head was – or would have been had he been lying down. She kept an eagle eye on Sean as he approached Nick, her body still somewhat tense, but she allowed him to get close.

 

“Sit up,” the older man commanded, keeping a peripheral eye on the dog but otherwise not paying her any attention.

 

It was at this command that Nick noticed that Sean carried a few ice packs by way of frozen vegetables. Was the captain really planning on taking care of him? When the man continued to patiently wait for Nick to do what he was told, the grimm concluded that he was, in fact, planning on taking care of Nick whether Nick wanted him to or not.

 

Again Nick shifted, doing his best to withhold any pain from his face as he did so, and scooted back. As he prepared to move, Sean put the bags of vegetables down on the coffee table behind him and bent over to help Nick move. The process wasn’t painless by any means but thanks to the captain’s help, it wasn’t near as bad as it could have been had he been doing it on his own.

 

Once he was more upright and nearer the arm of the chair, Sean went and grabbed one of the handmade throw pillows that Bud’s wife had made and placed it behind Nick’s back and then adding a couple more beneath Nick’s injured leg. It was all done without conversation which allowed Nick to observe the man in a way he hadn’t before.

 

The captain was a masculine man. He seemed to abhor emotion unless it was necessary and he was stoic when under immense stress or pain. He was also strong and Nick wasn’t just talking about the man’s personality. Even though he saw him every day, it wasn’t until Nick had gotten close – or rather the captain had gotten close since Nick was technically just sitting there – that he noticed just how toned and strong Sean’s body was.

 

Muscle, lean and taut, had wrapped around him in the forest while the captain’s wings – and how in the hell did the man have wings?! – shielded him from the cold. While against him, Nick had felt the captain’s heartbeat, strong and steady in spite of the load he carried in Nick, but that wasn’t what had occupied his mind the most. Sean’s chest and stomach were muscular, showing just how good of care the captain took care of himself. Nick had no doubt that the rest of Sean was just as toned and – dare he say appealing – but for the moment he was content with having seen his torso, arms and shoulders.

 

It wasn’t only Nick’s attraction that he spent time noticing, however, though that was something that he wanted to deal with eventually. As in, tonight. There was also the tenderness with which Sean was treating him.

 

He’d first noticed it when the captain had arrived in the snow-covered forest. He’d approached confidently and knelt down next to him as though it were natural. But the hand that had traced the bruise on the left side of his face had been soft and tender, caressing almost. As the hands continued to feel his person – something that Nick had been both comfortable and uncomfortable with – they were gentle as though they were trying to make sure he was fine without causing more pain.

 

When Sean had picked him up to get him to the black SUV, the captain’s arms had been strong but his hands had been gentle, caring. He’d been attentive to where he’d placed his hands, making sure that they weren’t causing any pain. And then throughout the rest of the night, including now, he’d done his best to take care of Nick without a word of protest. His face had remained neutral, stoic in some moments, but every time he had touched Nick, his touch had been tender, almost loving. And every time he’d looked at Nick, his eyes had been soft, sometimes changing from his normal, human, green, to a warmer orange, which Nick was sure only he could see.

 

Ice cold shocked Nick back to the present and he realized that Sean had just placed the vegetables, which were still decently frozen even with the warmth of the house, over Nick’s swollen knee and ankle. Without a word, Sean went back into the kitchen and Nick heard a few drawers open and close and then the faucet turn on and then the freezer open and close. When Sean came back, he carried a wet towel, bunched up in the center.

 

Not bothering to check and make sure that it was okay with Nick, Sean sat on the edge of the couch, his hip just in the middle of Nick’s thigh, and placed the towel against Nick’s right cheek.

 

Nick hissed, more at the cold than the pain, and tried to shy away from the uncomfortable sensation. Sean’s hand immediately snatched out and stilled Nick’s head. Beside Nick, Kylie let out a small growl, but she quieted when Nick instinctively snapped to take her attention off the captain and onto him. Her ears perked at the sound but she ceased growling and kept her attention focused on him. He moved his hand and petted her, scratching behind her ears a bit before withdrawing.

 

“It’ll help,” Sean soothed, taking his spare hand away from Nick’s chin and lowering it to his lap. It didn’t escape Nick’s notice that said hand was close to Nick’s hand which rested in his own lap.   


Green eyes roamed over Nick, Sean’s expression carefully blank as they did so, leaving Nick wondering what the older man was thinking about. When they landed on Nick’s empty hand, they moved over to his right hand which held the undrunk mug of coffee.

 

“You should drink that,” he said, nodding with his head towards the coffee.

 

Knowing the captain to be right, Nick lifted the mug to his lips. Keeping a grip on the cup strained his weakened wrist, but carrying its weight actually hurt, though not enough to make Nick change hands. The coffee was bitter but invigorating. Though it was his own coffee, Nick was impressed by how Sean knew how he took it.   

 

“You should drink that,” he said, nodding with his head towards the coffee.

 

Knowing the captain to be right, Nick lifted the mug to his lips. Keeping a grip on the cup strained his weakened wrist, but carrying its weight actually hurt, though not enough to make Nick change hands. The coffee was bitter but invigorating. Though it was his own coffee, Nick was impressed by how Sean knew how he took it – black with a little sugar.

 

Sean eyed the hand that Nick was using but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he stayed sitting next to Nick long enough to be satisfied that Nick was comfortable and then he moved over to the chair across from the couch, on the other side of the coffee table and settled in.

 

“You don’t need any?” Nick asked when he noticed that he was the only one needing the caffeine.

 

“No, I had some while I waited for you to finish with the MRI.”

 

Oh, yeah. Nick had actually wondered what Sean had done while he’d been getting images taken of his knee but in all the bustle of getting home and such, he’d forgotten to ask. Nick’s face wrinkled into an expression of distaste.

 

“That couldn’t have tasted good,” he empathized.

 

“I said I had some,” Sean said. “I didn’t say I had the hospital’s.”

 

Nick nodded and ducked his head while he smiled. He used that moment to take another sip of the coffee, which was slowly cooling to a more drinkable temperature.

 

“So, what _is_ going on between us?” he asked, not really wanting to beat around the bush.

 

As though sensing that things were about to calm down, Kylie laid down, still making sure she was close to Nick. Nick shifted on the couch, the process made a little easier by the numbing of the eyes. He pivoted a little so that he was facing Sean more, wincing ever so slightly when his side gave a small twinge. His mother had left a pretty decent bruise there, but the pain of it was dwarfed by the shockingly overwhelming amount that radiated from his knee whenever it was moved.  

 

Across from him, Sean smiled. Well, it wasn’t so much a smile as a brief quirk of his lips but that was what Nick had taken it for. He inwardly shrugged. It didn’t really matter whether or not the captain smiled and so he wasn’t going to spend too much time debating it. However, Sean remained quiet for a bit, choosing just to stare at Nick with an almost blank look on his face. It actually reminded Nick of an expression someone would wear when they’re sorting through their mind, trying to decide what to tell someone and what to leave out.

 

He was just about to say something about telling the full truth when Sean spoke.

 

“It’s called the Gebunden Kollegen.”

 

The way the foreign language – German if Nick had to guess. Because what _isn’t_ in German these days? – rolled off Sean’s tongue enthralled Nick for a second. He generally wasn’t one for foreign languages. It was one of the reasons he mainly stuck with knowing English, really. But hearing Sean speak them, he made them sound beautiful. Monroe did a good job of that as well, although his German was much more fluid than Sean’s.

 

“It’s called a what?” Nick asked as the name meant nothing to him since it wasn’t in English.

 

“In English it translates as Bonded Mates.”

 

Nick did his best to keep his expression neutral but it was hard. Because if what he’d just inferred from the name alone was true, he was already railing against the concept. It wasn’t so much who he’d apparently been bonded with, it was that he wasn’t being given a choice.

 

“And what does that entail?” he asked, thinking that would get him the best understanding of the situation. He took the now warm vegetables off his knee and ankle and placed them onto the coffee table where they stayed as Sean made no move to grab them.

 

“It happens when a regnant finds their mate,” Sean answered. He crossed his right leg over the left and smirked a little when Nick slightly glared at him. He was enjoying answering Nick’s questions without actually answering them a little too much.

 

“I’m guessing you’re a regnant,” Nick supplied, hoping that this would lead Sean to actually explain _everything._

 

“Yes,” the older man answered. “Those with royal blood are; excepting the occasional bastard of course.”

 

“And what is a regnant, exactly?” Nick asked, somehow doubting that he’d actually seen Sean in full woge earlier in the forest.

 

“They were often mistaken for dragons in the dark ages,” Sean answered. “Back then, it was harder to travel continents to find others of our kind and so they married whomever they could find that would strengthen their positions in wealth and property. Through one of those bloodlines the däemonfeuer was born.”

 

He paused to shift, now leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees and continued.

 

“Regnants have a longer lifespan than humans or some wesen. We are older than most other races of wesen in our lineage and we take longer to reproduce than they do, which is why there are so few of us. Even so, we are lucky to find a mate. Only one other person in my immediately family has been fortunate enough and that’s my sister, Justine. The rest of my family, including my parents, married out of duty and for their partner’s connections like my ancestors did. We mostly marry within our race but there are times when that hasn’t happened as I’ve explained already.”

 

“And has any of your ancestors ever mated with a grimm?” Nick asked.

 

Sean smirked. “No, you would be the first.”

 

“So what does being mated mean?” Nick had a suspicion that Sean was leaving out all the vital parts. He understood that, for as private a man as Sean was, sharing his family’s history with Nick wasn’t necessarily easy, but it had begun to feel like the captain was pussyfooting around the things that Nick truly needed to know – although as a grimm, he was getting quite a bit to put down in one of aunt Marie’s books later on – and it was starting to worry him a little.

 

“In the simplest form it means that I am yours and you are mine,” Sean summed up.

 

“And in the more complicated form?” Nick countered, not as unhappy with the idea as he thought he would have been.

 

“Things go deeper than that. Regnants with mates are stronger than their non-mated counterparts. They can draw strength and healing from the bond their share with their mate, as can the mate in a vice-versa sense. Mates can sense when one another is near. They can, or so I’m told, communicate in small ways via the bond, though that one has yet to be proven. My sister has said that she was able to connect with her mate on a more intimate level than she had with anyone else.”

 

Sean gave a colder smile and Nick felt its chill run his spine.

 

“On the flip side,” Sean continued, “having a mate weakens the regnant as well, although I’m assuming that would be the same for both mates in actuality. If something were to happen to the mate, the other would be able to feel it through the bond. If, let’s say, you were kidnapped, I would be able to tell immediately while also being powerless to stop it if I wasn’t close. One’s enemies could use that to their advantage. All they would have to do is take one of us, leaving us off balance just long enough to strike.”

 

Sean’s eyes went from green to dark red, making them look almost black as the next thought clouded his vision.

 

“If my brother, for instance, were to get ahold of you and do to you what I think he wants to do, I would be able to feel everything he did through our bond and vice versa.”

 

“Is that how you knew where I was?” Nick asked, just now wondering how Sean had managed to find him at night in a wooded area. Even as brightly lit as it was, Nick doubted that anyone else would have been able to track him and/or find him as easily as it appeared Sean had.

 

At this, Sean smirked again.

 

“Actually, I could smell the pain on you.”

 

Nick’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He knew that Monroe had an excellent sense of smell, and given his lineage, why wouldn’t he? But he never thought that captain did as well.

 

“What do you mean you could smell the pain on me?” he asked with something akin to trepidation in his voice, though he wasn’t feeling that at all.

 

“Blutbadden aren’t the only ones with excellent senses of smell, Nick,” Sean replied sounding amused and indulgent in one. “The main difference is that while your friend Monroe can smell you, I can smell your emotions as well as your natural scent.”

 

“Okay, that’s a little weird,” Nick admitted without hesitation. Because it was. Actually it was more than that. It was flat-out creepy.

 

Sean smiled, neither admitting nor denying the statement.

 

“Is it another plus to the bond?” Nick asked, wondering if that had something to do with it.

 

“Perhaps,” Sean conceded, though he didn’t sound overly convinced. “To be honest, I’ve always been able to tell how you were feeling my sniffing the air. It just wasn’t as precise as it is currently.”

 

“And can you do that with everyone or am I just special?”

 

Sarcasm came through his tone, but the truth was that Nick was mildly amused by the whole thing. Why, he couldn’t explain, but he was. He took a sip of his now-cold tea and, with a grimace, placed it on the coffee table. He’d never been able to stomach the taste of cold coffee. It seemed to ruin the whole flavor for him and so he knew that he wouldn’t be drinking any more of that cup unless it was reheated. It wasn’t a huge problem, actually, since the conversation was keeping him pretty much awake as Sean was making him work for his answers.

 

“We both know you’re special, Nick,” Sean answered, his eyes conveying a very different meaning than the one his tone inferred. “However, I suppose you could say that from the moment I met you, I knew there was something different about you and my interest was sparked. It wasn’t until later that I realized just how different you were and how important you were to me.”

 

“Ah, you mean your plans for me,” Nick assumed, remembering that Sean had mentioned that he’d had plans for Nick but as of yet hadn’t said what those plans were.

 

“Yes and no,” Sean admitted. “I can say that I hadn’t planned on becoming bonded with you, but I also cannot say that it’s all that unpleasant of a surprise. I’ve found myself drawn to you ever since you came to be under my command.”

 

“So you’re okay with all of this, then?” Nick said, waving his hand in the general vicinity of the two of them.

 

“Yes,” Sean answered without hesitation. “But I’ve had some time to become okay with it. I understand that you’ll need more time.”

 

“Yeah, that’s an understatement.”

 

Sean smirked. “You might be surprised, Nick. You might just find yourself more okay with this than you are currently admitting.”

 

“And what makes you think that?” Nick challenged with a smirk.

 

In one fluid motion, Sean stood and walked over to the couch that Nick currently lay on. Kylie lifted her head, her lip briefly curling up in a warning, but she seemed to have slightly warmed up to Sean, or his presence, and so she quickly backed down and went back to sleep.

 

Sean sat, this time sitting closer than he had the previous time. His hip was pressed against Nick’s thigh. Nick felt the heat radiating off from Sean and he seemed to try and soak it up even though he wasn’t cold in the least. Sean’s scent filled his nose. It was spiced from his cologne, mild from his soap and altogether comforting to the grimm which actually made him a little uncomfortable.

 

Without hesitation, Sean reached out his hand and caressed the right side of Nick’s face. He was careful to avoid the deep bruise that Nick’s mom had created, but even if he hadn’t, Nick wouldn’t have cared. Whether it was unconsciously done or not, he leaned into Sean’s touch and his heart rate increased slightly in pleasure at the touch.

 

“Because I can hear your heartbeat, Nick,” Sean whispered, his voice deeper than his normal baritone. “I heard its steady beat jump a little when I got close and I heard it speed up when I touched you.”

 

“Well isn’t that handy,” Nick retorted, a little annoyed by that fact. It was going to make hiding anything from this man nigh impossible.

 

Sean chuckled. The sound rumbled through his chest and stifled in his throat. It drew a smile from Nick, though the grimm couldn’t explain why.

 

“I could also tell how pleased you were by my touch from the smell of lavenders on the air.”

 

“Lavenders?” Nick asked, puzzled.

 

“it’s one of my favorite scents,” Sean replied.

 

Ever since he’d come back over to Nick, Sean hadn’t moved, even while they’d talked. His hand had changed positions, going from Nick’s face to slide down his neck – which had damn near drawn a groan from the grimm – before landing on the spot by Nick’s right hip which was brushing against the couch. It was a perfect position for Sean to trap Nick while making it all feel more than a little seductive but thanks to the damn bond – apparently – the grimm didn’t mind.

 

“So how I’m feeling is based on your preferred scents?”

 

“Essentially,” Sean answered.

 

“And what am I feeling now?”

 

“Tired,” Sean answered without hesitation. At Nick’s challenging eyebrow raise, the regnant smiled. “You currently smell like fresh laundry which is what I think of when I think of bedding. That and your eyelids fluttered shut a little.”

 

“That’s cheating,” Nick reprimanded, not denying Sean’s assessment.

 

“Maybe,” Sean said. “I’ve learned that you use everything at your disposal or you don’t last long.”

 

Nick chewed on that for a moment. He knew that it was going to take him a while to remember that he and Sean were raised in very different families and with very different styles. While aunt Marie could be harsh or cold sometimes, there was never a doubt in his mind that she loved him and though they weren’t as open with their affection as other families, they had never been violent like Sean’s family had been.

 

Somewhere out of the corner of his sleepy mind, Nick had a thought.

 

“Does being mated mean that we have to get married?”

 

Later he would blame the fact that he was about to fall asleep for precisely how childish that question sounded but for the moment, he couldn’t care less.

 

“If, later on we decide that we want to, yes. But it does not automatically mean that we are destined to do so, no.”

 

There was a pause in which no one said anything. Nick was slowly becoming too tired to think let alone to force his mouth to open and Sean, he supposed, was just watching him slowly fall asleep where he sat.

 

“Come on,” Sean prompted, withdrawing from his spot on the couch and standing up. Nick blearily looked up at him in time to see him open the door to let the dog out. Kylie hesitated for a moment but soon her needs won out and she went out to relieve herself and then came back in and returned to her spot at Nick’s side.

 

For a moment Nick thought that Sean had been talking to the dog but when he came back he resumed talking, “Let’s get you upstairs to your bed.”

 

“Why can’t I just stay here?” Nick asked, not really wanting to move since he was almost certain that it would hurt.

 

“For one, it won’t be all that comfortable for you with your injuries.” Okay, Nick had to silently concede that Sean had a point there. “And for two, I’ll need a place to sleep.”

 

Wait, what?

 

“Why are you sleeping here?” Nick asked, trying to keep a note of displeasure out of his voice.

 

It wasn’t that he was unhappy with the idea of Sean staying with him – actually he was tempted just to say to sleep in bed with him since it was more comfortable than the couch – but he was confused as to why Sean thought that he needed to stay there at all.

 

“Nick, you’re injured and you’re stubborn. Not only do I not trust you to take care of yourself or that leg, but you are a weakened grimm and there are far too many wesen out there who would take advantage of that. It’s safer for you if I stay and it ensures that I will actually get some sleep.”

 

“Why does no one seem to think that I’m capable of taking care of myself?” Nick asked, annoyed.

 

He began the slow process of getting up. He managed to stifle any sound of pain from coming out but he wasn’t as lucky with his expression. Before he could do anything about it, his face wrinkled into a grimace. His eyes briefly scrunched and his teeth ground together.

 

“Past experience,” Sean said, watching Nick with a pointed look.

 

It had taken far longer than it should have, but eventually Nick was able to sit up properly on the couch. His braced leg was stretched out on the floor and he shifted to scoot closer to the edge of the couch so that he could use the crutches he’d gotten from the hospital to leverage himself up off it.

 

“Why do I feel like we’ve had this conversation?” Nick asked with a sigh that was too tired sounding to be more than just what it was – an audible release of breath.

 

“Probably because we have,” Sean answered steadily. His nose suddenly wrinkled and his face scrunched into an expression of extreme distaste.

 

Before he knew what was happening, Nick was being lifted into the hair and being held by a pair of strong, supportive arms. He wasn’t able to stop the brief cry that escaped at being suddenly picked up or the pain that it had caused and he felt Sean’s biceps contract as though he’d tensed at the sound.

 

“Sorry,” he said, his voice barely breathless even though he was carrying a full-grown man. Behind them, Nick heard Kylie growl but they both ignored her. “I figured this would be easier and less painful all around.”

 

“Why is it people seem to think it’s easier to carry me upstairs rather than let me get there by myself?” Nick groused, slightly snuggling against Sean.

 

Sean was quiet this time but Nick heard his heart rate increase and it made him wonder why.

 

“The blutbad?” the regnant asked, turning to his right and carrying Nick into the bedroom. He deposited him as gently as though he were broken onto the bed and then stepped back a bit with his arms folded over his chest.

 

“Yeah. It was when the reapers had caught my leg,” Nick answered and explained in one. He wondered _why_ he’d felt like he’d had to explain. Then he focused a little and actually felt a sense of jealousy coming from the captain. It wasn’t strong, though, so either the man wasn’t all that bothered or he was clamping down on it. Either way, it was an odd thing.

 

Sean didn’t respond, in fact he didn’t move a muscle, but Nick knew that he’d heard and so he didn’t feel the need to add anything else. Without a word, the regnant walked out and went back downstairs.

 

In his absence, Kylie came in. She trotted around to Nick’s side of the bed and then nudged his hand. He obligingly petted her for a bit and then he heard Sean’s footsteps back on the stairs. Apparently taking that as her cue, the lab crawled under the bed, leaving the two men to do what they will.

 

When he came back in, Sean had Nicks’ crutches in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He deposited the crutches against the wall near Nick’s head and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a pill bottle once he was done.

 

Nick took his medicine without a word of protest. He wanted the sleep and he knew that he wouldn’t be getting it if he didn’t have some painkillers in his system.

 

Sean stayed nearby, watching as Nick took his meds, no doubt to make sure that Nick did as he was told, and then took the empty glass from him.

 

“Now, sleep,” the regnant bid, somehow making it sound like a gentle command. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

 

As much as he wanted to, Nick didn’t invite the captain to stay with him. Instead, his eyes fluttered closed. It took him far more energy than he thought he’d had to open them again, only to find Sean placing a pillow under Nick’s knee and ankle. He then covered him with a couple blankets from the hall closet.

 

“Thanks Sean,” Nick sleepily said. Now that he had the blankets on top of him, he realized how chilled he’d been before and he snuggled down a little to curl up in them.

 

He wasn’t too sleepy to notice the warm smile that spread itself across Sean’s face when Nick had used his name. Nor had he missed the dangerously close to loving look the captain had given him. However, he _was_ too sleepy to act on either and so he closed his eyes, this time letting them stay shut.

 

Just as he drifted off into wonderful nothingness, Nick heard Sean whisper something that made him smile. It wasn’t because of the words themselves, though. It was because of _how_ they were said – with so much emotion, Nick could feel the safety and caring coming from them. It was crazy how this bond-thing worked because all the captain had said was,

 

“Sleep well my grimm.”

 

**TBC**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter XXII**

When Nick awoke the next morning, the first thing he realized was that he was really sore. It took him a few minutes to remember _why_ he was sore but once he did he supposed it made sense. Along with the main injuries he’d been treated for last night, his head pounded – no doubt from the blows to the face he received – and the knuckles on his right hand ached – probably from the hits he’d thrown. His leg felt stiff and he longed to flex and move it but he somehow doubted that would be a good idea and so he stifled his urge. He did, however, flex his foot – which was starting to cramp a little – and rotate his ankle; it hurt but it was manageable and so he ignored it.

 

A crow outside cawed, drawing his attention to the window and the weather outside it. The sun was shining, though not brightly. It looked like clouds still covered all of Portland’s skies and were refusing to let the sun come through. As far as Nick was concerned it was a good thing; he wasn’t sure his pounding head could take the bright sun today – not that he was going anywhere but it coming through his windows would have been bad enough. A snow covered branch tapped lightly against his window, its movement proof of a breeze. How strong it was, Nick couldn’t gauge, but he still felt for those that had to be out and about today. Thanks to his mother, that wasn’t going to be him.

 

Nick still wasn’t sure how he felt about everything that had happened last night. Meeting his mother had been enough to throw him off his game and mess with his emotions. He knew that he’d be sorting through how he felt about that for weeks and so he brushed the topic aside for the moment.

 

How he felt about what the captain had told him, now that was something else entirely. From what he understood, either Sean’s soul had recognized and named Nick as his, essential, soul mate or on some level _both of their souls_ had recognized one another as soul mates. Either way they were now bonded together for life.

 

A part of him was still railing against the fact that he seemed to have no say in it. True, if both his and Sean’s souls had named each other than he technically did have a say in it, he just didn’t realize it. But if Sean’s soul alone had done this, then it left Nick feeling trapped and not a little bit annoyed by the whole thing.

 

Thinking on how he’d felt when Sean had been near, however, had him re-thinking that it was solely Sean’s fault. Some part of him – whether big or small – had felt safer than he ever had when he was with Sean. It was as though he instinctively knew that Sean wouldn’t let any harm come to him and so he had felt himself relaxing for the first time in weeks.

 

He had also felt marginally comfortable with the man, specifically when they were at the hospital and Sean was just there. There weren’t many that Nick could tolerate while they essentially manhandled him into being checked out but with Sean he hadn’t complained or argued against it. And Sean hadn’t really done much, either. He’d been quiet, not forcing awkward conversation and not pressuring Nick into telling him anything. It was a relief from Monroe who would have rambled amicably or Hank who _would have been_ pressing Nick for answers. Not that Nick didn’t appreciate either friend; it was just that, at that moment, the silence had been welcome.

 

And they way he and Sean had gone back and forth during the explanation? It had almost felt like their version of flirting. A little bit. Not that that mattered really, it was more food for thought at the moment.

 

At any rate, Nick was beginning to think that it had been a combined effort in making them bonded; whether he knowingly did it or not was becoming irrelevant.

 

Now, as for his growing attraction to the captain, that was another thing entirely. It was strange – suddenly finding your boss physically attractive. After all, he hadn’t been broken up with Juliette that long when this whole thing had started and then all of a sudden he was having feelings for his boss?

 

But then, Nick thought, hadn’t the captain said that his part of the bond had started _before_ this whole thing with Juliette and the incident with the reapers and the eisbibers? If that was true then had Nick’s started before then as well and he just hadn’t known?

 

Nick searched his memory, trying to find some indication of precisely when he was conscious of finding Sean attractive. In some degree Nick had always looked up to him; he had ever since not long after becoming under his command. But had that been more than looking up to him? Had it, in fact, been a slight crush?

 

Ugh, Nick cringed at the word ‘crush’; it sounded so juvenile but it was the only word he could think of to describe how he’d possibly felt back then.

 

He silently conceded that it was possible that it had been more than ‘hero worship’ – albeit not as extreme as the term would indicate – but he wasn’t sure he could go so far as to say that it was a slowly growing attraction.

 

Thoughts swirled through his head, increasing the pounding within it. He groaned a little with the pain and he felt the spot beside him stir. Turning his head he saw that sometime during the night Kylie had joined him on the bed and she now had her head raised, her ears perked as she looked over at him.

 

“Good morning,” he greeted with a sigh. Kylie crept a little closer, inching over as though expecting to be told no. When he didn’t shoo her away, she licked his hand and he moved to pet her a bit.

 

“Don’t expect to sleep on the bed every night,” he lectured, scratching behind her ear. “This was a one-time thing, got it?”

 

“Somehow, I don’t think she can understand you,” Sean’s voice answered, drawing Nick’s attention to the man.

 

Sean Renard stood in the doorway to Nick’s bedroom in the same suit that he’d been wearing the night previous. In spite of obviously having slept in it, it was still relatively creased and pristine. Only the slight ruffled look of his hair showed that he hadn’t stayed awake all night.

 

Now that Nick looked at him, he could see that Sean was actually leaning against the door frame, looking casual and comfortable. There was a slight quirk to his lips that told Nick that he was trying not to smile but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide the sparkle in his green eyes that showed his amusement.

 

Kylie’s head swiveled to look at the newcomer. While she didn’t bare her teeth like she’d been doing last night, she didn’t exactly welcome him either. She did, however, scoot closer to Nick so that her body was against his, her head close enough to have been lying on his chest.

 

“How are you feeling?” Sean asked after a few more seconds’ silence.

 

The concern that Nick felt from him wrapped around him, making him feel as though he were being snuggled in a warmed blanket. Nick did his best not to smile at the feeling but he allowed it to surround him and provide what little bit of comfort it could.

 

“I’ve been better,” Nick answered, figuring that Sean could already tell how he was feeling via that – apparently – supersensitive nose of his. The fact that the captain could actually _smell_ how he was feeling still creeped him out a bit. It also seemed like an unfair advantage – being able to tell how Nick was feeling when Nick wasn’t able to do the same.

 

“I’m sure you have,” Sean allowed. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

 

It took Nick a minute to figure out that Sean had been addressing Kylie and not Nick. He then looked down to find the dog looking questioningly at him, as though asking if she should actually go. He gave her an encouraging nudge and said, “Go on,” watching as she jumped off the bed – albeit hesitantly – and went downstairs with the captain.

 

“I’ll be back up with some breakfast,” Sean assured before he disappeared through the door and followed the lab down the stairs.

 

Nick waited until he heard the sound of the door – the back door this time – open and then he began to get himself up and moving. He was stiff from having slept in the same position all night and he did his best to ignore the groans coming from his more minor injuries as he forced himself upright and lowered his injured leg to the floor. He took a moment to stretch out his neck, shoulders and back and then he grabbed the crutches that Sean had placed within his reach the night before and leveraged himself up to a standing position.

 

After taking a few seconds to let his head stop swimming, he made his way over to the bathroom. Once that was taken care of, he took a moment to observe his reflection.

 

On the whole, he didn’t look too bad. The bruise that his mother had given him by head-butting him looked dark underneath his bright blue eye. He absently noticed that she was careful to avoid his nose when she’d hit him, something which he was immensely grateful for as he’d broken it once already in his lifetime, and it made him smile. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he’d wanted to see it or whether it was because it was actually true, but he took it as a sign that his mother actually cared about him, despite her cold appearance.

 

He turned his head to the right so that he could see the livid-looking bruise on his cheek better and he winced at the sight. An angry-red scratch centered the whole thing, reminding him that he had felt a sting _before_ he’d felt her foot connect with his face. The scratch was thin and precise but it was relatively deep, telling him that it had probably been a small but sharp knife that she’d hit him with first.

 

What kind of life had his mother led that she felt she needed to strike with a knife first and talk later?

 

Other than those two wounds, however, there was nothing significant to note and so he moved on.

 

His crutches made an aluminum thunk as he made his away back across the room. After having noticed that he, too, was still in the same clothes as yesterday, Nick had contemplated taking a shower. However, since Nick couldn’t currently stand on his own, he dismissed the idea and settled for changing his clothes instead. A part of him wanted to stay in bed all day but with Sean here, Nick felt odd doing that.

 

Changing from his button-down to a tee shirt hadn’t been too difficult. His wrist had grumbled about being used but it still served its purpose and followed his brain’s commands. Removing his pants proved to be much more difficult.

 

Nick began by removing the long brace that surrounded his knee. He actually felt a bit of relief once it was gone but he doubted that would last. Still, he took a moment to revel in the freedom before he began to attempt to get his jeans off.

 

He hissed as he accidentally bent his knee in the process. The swelling in the joint had gone done since the night before but there was still a significant amount of it so as to make bending the joint painful and hard. And that wasn’t taking into account the injuries to the ligaments that he’d sustained. Man, his mother could give a nasty kick!

 

He waited a moment to allow the pain to subside a bit and then he proceeded to wriggle the jeans off his legs. It was one of the most unmanly moves he’s made in a long time and he was thankful that no one was around to see it. Once they’d fallen to the floor, Nick took the one and only other pair of jeans that he was able to find that were clean – a very old pair that was worn in one knee and faded through years of washing – and began to slide them on. His balance was precarious at best as he stood on one leg to finish buttoning the jeans but it didn’t matter since he didn’t stay upright very long and soon he was sitting back down on the bed.

 

The whole process took far longer than Nick liked and by the end of it, he could smell fresh coffee mixed with bacon. His stomach gave a growl that Nick was sure Sean could hear from downstairs and so he began to slow and careful process of going to the kitchen.

 

Kylie greeted him at the foot of the stairs, her tail wagging ever so slightly, letting him know that she was happy to see him. After checking to make sure that he wasn’t going to pet her, she walked back into the kitchen, presumably to beg for food.

 

Nick followed her, heading straight for the coffee. It was more out of ritual than need that he went for the caffeine and its warmth felt good in his hands as he leaned against the counter and simply held onto the mug.

 

At the stove, Sean eyed him for a moment. His expression gave nothing away but Nick wasn’t left to wonder what the man was thinking for long as very soon after he took a sip of coffee, Sean said, “You should sit down.”

 

Ah, so he was still in a bit of a mother-hen mode. Though the captain had obviously been trying to hide it, Nick had seen it come through last night when he’d been made sure that Nick was comfortable before they’d talked. It had also come through a bit before then but that was when it had been most noticeable.

 

Nick smiled at the show of concern. It reflected on the black surface of his coffee as he’d done it into his mug so that he could hide it from Sean. Far be it from him to point out the gesture and potentially embarrass the man.

 

And yet, he didn’t do as was suggested.

 

“I’m fine,” Nick assured with a smile, taking another sip. “So what’s for breakfast?”

 

“As there wasn’t much available other than dinner leftovers, I opted for bacon and eggs,” Sean answered with a bit of scolding in his tone. Unlike Monroe, he didn’t lecture Nick on eating a healthier breakfast than coffee. Apparently he was letting his tone do that for him and was leaving it at that.

 

He plated the bacon, placing the strips onto paper towels so that they could absorb some of the grease and then went back to tending the – scrambled – eggs. It didn’t take long before they, too, were done and soon there was a healthy dose of each on two plates.

 

Sean didn’t even say a word to him as he took the plates into the dining room and then came back in. He grabbed the gallon of orange juice out of the refrigerator door and poured a couple glasses before returning it and then took the glasses to the table.

 

While Sean went about grabbing the juice, Nick slowly made his way into the dining room, sitting down on the left of the table with his back facing the door. Sean took up residence on the other side and without a word, the two began to eat.

 

The food tasted well enough but as Nick had never really been one for eating first thing in the morning, he mainly pushed it around on the plate. He ate enough to keep his stomach from growling at him – which hadn’t taken much – and then he was done.

 

“You should eat more if you want to keep from feeling sick after taking your medicine,” Sean commented, having noticed what Nick was doing.

 

“And who said I’m going to be taking any medicine?” Nick challenged, putting his fork on his plate and sitting back.

 

Sean’s eyes flashed at the challenge, the green changing minutely to a deep orange and seeming to burn with slight excitement before returning to normal. Even so, he smiled slightly. He didn’t push, though, and went back to finishing up his plate, leaving them both in silence once again.

 

Much to his annoyance, Nick had to admit that Sean was probably right. Though he really didn’t want to, the grimm knew that he’d end up taking some pain medication later on – probably sooner rather than later actually. His knee was starting to ache and the amount of pain was slowly starting to grow. He supposed that it would desist a little once he was able to elevate the leg but for now, it was beginning to throb.

 

The silence began to stretch and Nick’s mind resumed its contemplation. He still couldn’t pin down precisely when he began to think of Sean as something other than his boss and that was beginning to bug him. It didn’t stop him from trying, however, and so that was what he did while Sean finished eating his breakfast.

 

The last bite was on his fork when a change came over him so suddenly that it made Nick’s head spin a little. Once second he was perfectly calm, relaxed, even possibly comfortable. The next second, his hand clenched down so hard on the fork that Nick was pretty sure he was going to break it. His shoulders stiffened and his back straightened. His eyes elongated ever so slightly and their hue changed from hazel to dark red. Nick was beginning to recognize that color as an indication that the man was angry, but what he was upset about, the grimm had no idea.

 

What could only have been described as a low growl bubbled in Sean’s chest and on the floor next to Nick, Kylie echoed it.

 

“What?” Nick asked, alerted by their combined response.

 

Despite his hostile behavior, Sean’s voice was smooth and calm-sounding as ever as he said, “There’s someone at the door.”

 

“Okay,” Nick said, dragging out the word a little as he gave the other man a confused look. “I guess I’ll go get it then.”

 

Giving one last ‘you’re crazy’ look at Sean, Nick unsteadily stood on one leg, gathered up his crutches and went to the door. He couldn’t hide or deny that he was completely baffled by Sean’s and Kylie’s reactions. Who the heck was at the door that was so bad? And _if_ they were so menacing, why was Sean letting him get the door alone?

 

His questions were soon answered when Nick opened the. His mouth dropped open in surprise and his eyes widened a little.

 

“Mom?”

 

**oOo**

Kelly Burkhardt stood on the front porch of her son’s house, hesitant about what to do next. She knew that she shouldn’t have come. Pierre had specifically instructed that she be on the first plane out of Portland but she couldn’t bring herself to leave without saying good bye at the least. Even so, with the way she and Nick had last met, she wasn’t sure that he _wanted_ to see her and that was what was giving her pause. After all, she’d only been back in his life one day, as far as he was concerned, what made her think she had the right to demand more only to leave him again?

 

However, Kelly reasoned, this wasn’t necessarily for his benefit. This was for hers and as selfish as it was, she wasn’t going to apologize for it. So, she reached up a hand to knock but the door opened before she’d had a chance to actually do so. She did her best to stifle a wince at the sight of her son.

 

The bruises on Nick’s face stood out far too easily on his pale skin. His bright blue eyes seemed to highlight the one on the left side, making it stick out even more so than the angry one on his cheek. Kelly felt a bit of guilt at the sight of them but it paled in comparison to the shame that coiled in her stomach, striking her heart like an angry snake at the sight of the brace on his leg and the crutches that he used to support himself.

 

What kind of a person had she become to do this to her own son?

  
Even as that question ran through head like a hamster on a wheel, Kelly found that she wasn’t sorry for what she’d done. Yes, she was sorry for the pain that it had caused her son, but she wasn’t sorry for doing it. God only knows what would have happened if he’d followed her – and she knew that he could have – and she preferred him hurting but at home rather than hurting but in Pierre’s hands.

 

He seemed startled to see her at his door and for a second she wondered if his precarious balance would falter entirely and he would fall over. When he said her name, it made her smile.

 

“Hello Nick,” she said, making sure to let the light from her smile warm her eyes.

 

The sound of nails clicking on the floor sounded throughout the house and soon there was a medium-sized yellow lab at her son’s side. The dog looked friendly enough but that was only until it saw her and then its hackles rose and it started growling, baring its teeth as it did so.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not even bothering to tell the dog to stop. His surprise seemed to be overriding any of his manners, which was understandable, if not a little annoying.

 

“I have some information that you need to know,” she said, not wanting to say much more while out in the open. And speaking, “Can I come in?”

 

Nick physically shook his head, seeming to try and get his head back to reality and out of his thoughts which contained God only knows what. At her mention of sharing information, he straightened up, no longer counting on the crutches to be the sole instruments of keeping him upright. He seemed guarded and wary of talking to her, which she knew he had every right to be. For a moment it seemed that he would actually deny her entrance. Then a rather cold wind blew in through the door, making him shiver and she saw that he wouldn’t leave her out in the cold, no matter how angry he was at her.

 

“Yeah, come on in,” he said, sounding like he was trying to keep any emotion out of his voice. He awkwardly stepped back while still somewhat holding onto the door to allow her entry. Beside him, the dog kept up its incessant growling, but it moved out of the way as well, seemingly following Nick as he moved.

 

“You got a dog since I last kept watch,” she said by way of drawing attention to the animal, hoping that he would tell the thing to shut up. If he didn’t, the urge to snap at the animal was getting stronger and she doubted that would be welcome.

 

He looked down at the lab and his eyebrows rose a little. “Yeah, found her outside on Thanksgiving. I still need to take her to the shelter and make sure that no one’s looking for her but it’s kind of hard to drive at the moment so that will have to wait.”

 

The way that he mentioned not being able to drive was very pointed and she stifled a wince. The three of them stood in the entryway, looking every bit as awkward as the two humans felt. She looked for a way to break the tension, not entirely comfortable with being in eye-view of the front door’s window. She got it, though not in a way she would have liked. Her son grimaced and it broke her heart a little to see.

 

“You should sit down,” a new voice said.

 

Kelly didn’t jump, she’d been a grimm far too long for that. But her head did focus on the voice and she narrowed her eyes when she saw none other than Sean Renard standing, comfortably at that, in her son’s house. She changed her stance to one of discomfort to confident anger.

 

The royal smiled and it made her want to smack the expression off his face.

 

“Hello Kelly,” he greeted cordially. His eyes remained focused on her as he came closer, stopping just behind Nick. His closeness with her son bothered her and it made her want to growl and bare her teeth at him. Nick may not be hers – and the same could be said for Renard as well but she couldn’t care less about whose he is, really – but she certainly didn’t want him being the royal’s either.

 

He didn’t wait for her to return his greeting, probably because he knew she wouldn’t make one and so pivoted a little so that he was more to Nick’s right than his back. He didn’t say anything, however, merely stood there.

 

After about a minute, Nick turned a little so that he and Renard were eye to eye – well as much as they could be since Nick was a little shorter. They continued to have a staring contest for another minute until Nick gave in with a sigh. He pivoted so that he was back to facing Kelly. A brief wince crossed his face but he covered it with a polite smile that practically chilled his eyes as he asked, “Would you like to sit down?”

 

Kelly arched an eyebrow. Had the royal really just managed to mother-hen her son into sitting down as well as being polite? Kelly could remember once when he was younger, Nick had sprained his ankle pretty badly playing basketball – the same ankle that was injured now as a matter of fact – and she and Nick’s father had had a heck of a time getting him to act as injured as he was. Throughout the first week, Nick had continued to try and do everything he’d been doing before the injury – except sports, of course – until he’d been threatened into submission. And yet Renard had managed it via a silent argument that took mere seconds?

 

She waited for Nick to lead the way, her lip curling up when Renard followed closely behind him, making her follow in last. The dog, it seemed didn’t want to bother much with either – perhaps once she was inside she wasn’t much of a threat? – of them and escaped upstairs, leaving them all to their own business.

 

Renard threw her a smirk over his shoulder, as though sensing her displeasure – hell, he probably could actually – and continued to follow Nick, making sure to take the crutches out of the way so that no one would trip on them while keeping them within Nick’s reach should he need them. He remained standing, drawing his hands to his hips, apparently waiting for Nick to do something more than sit down.

 

This time, Nick won the argument. He crossed his arms over his chest and returned Renard’s stare, finally adding an arched eyebrow near the end of it. The two continued their stare off for another minute before the royal shrugged, seeming to say ‘it’s all on you’, and sat down in a chair that sat between where Kelly had sat down and the couch that Nick had sat on.

 

“So what is this all about?” Nick asked once the silent fight was over and everyone was seated. His voice was even but the sigh at the end spoke of someone losing their patience.

 

Out of her peripheral, Kelly saw Renard take the throw pillow – some sort of homey looking thing that had obviously _not_ been made by either man – and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of them all. The pillow slid to the end of the table, stopping almost too late to avoid falling onto the floor. Its position suddenly clicked in Kelly’s brain and she finally knew what the two had been arguing over just now – the royal had wanted Nick to spread out on the couch to elevate his leg and Nick had stubbornly refused.

 

Blue eyes slid over to glare at green, which burned with determination, but made no effort to acknowledge the pillow in front of them.

 

Inwardly, Kelly shrugged. If Nick didn’t want to put his leg up, so be it. She couldn’t understand why Renard was pushing the topic – however mildly – so. It wasn’t as though it really concerned him…much. Sure, even Kelly could tell that Nick’s knee was hurting, but she couldn’t understand why it bothered Sean. Until she saw him briefly wrinkle his nose and then attempt to blow an unwelcome scent out of it.

 

While working for the royals, she’d heard a great many things about regnants and their abilities. Their fantastically great sense of smell was one of them and while she’d experienced their ability to smell her, she’d had a suspicion that they – meaning Sean – could also discern her emotions as well. Nick’s pain must have been a rather unpleasant smell for the regnant and so he was trying to ease it for himself.

 

Figures. Royals never did anything for the good of someone else; there was always self-interest involved.

 

“For the past couple of months, I was tasked with watching you and your friends,” she began, keeping eye contact with Nick alone.

 

Nick smirked, the look entirely unpleasant to see on one whose smile could be so bright and warming. “I know,” he said, sounding more than a little angry by the fact.

 

Kelly didn’t show any emotion. She knew that her son had a right to be upset with her for how she’d been acting towards him and his… _friends._ She probably would have been too, albeit more aggressively so about it.

 

“Let’s cut the crap, shall we?” Renard interrupted before she could continue. “We know that you’re working for my brother,” he said and Kelly practically rolled her eyes. Of course he told Nick. That man _loved_ to create and be in the middle of mischief. “What we want to know is why you’re here.”

 

“We?” Kelly challenged, not liking how the man had grouped himself and Nick into the same category. It sounded like he meant the two as a couple which wasn’t something she wanted.

 

“Yes, we,” Nick said, drawing her attention to him.

 

Whether or not he was bothered by the implications of the answer, Kelly couldn’t tell because he was keeping his emotion tied down and hidden in a chest she knew he wouldn’t reveal to her. It was something, she’d been told by Marie, that he’d learned to do after hers and Nick’s father’s deaths and apparently he was fairly good at it.

 

Again, she saw the royal smirk but she ignored it.

 

“I’m being replaced,” she said, hoping that the gravity of the situation would be grasped by the three words alone. She didn’t really feel like going into _why_ she’d been, essentially, fired; although that might actually help her relationship with her son, now that she thought about it.

 

“By whom?” Renard asked, most likely being the only one to understand.

 

“Sergio.”

 

The effect the name had on the royal was not lost on her nor was it lost on Nick. They both watched as his eyes, while keeping their human shape, turned such a deep shade of red they were almost black. Kelly knew that color well enough to know that the regnant before her was pissed and for a nanosecond she almost felt sorry for Pierre should his brother get a hold of him.

 

The change took all of three seconds and then Renard was back to his calm demeanor and smirking ways. His lip curled upwards just enough to show a smile, but it didn’t stay. He looked over at Nick as he said, “My brother must really want you to bring him in.”

 

“And who is he?” Nick asked, understandably confused.

 

“He’s an assassin,” Kelly explained.

 

“Like you?” Nick returned, briefly surprising her. So Renard had told her son of their past, had he? Fair enough, she supposed, though she couldn’t be happy to know that Nick hadn’t heard it from her.

 

“Not exactly,” Sean answered for her. He sat forward, placing his forearms onto his thighs and leaning on them. “Your mother may be a killer, but unlike Sergio, she doesn’t derive pleasure from it.” There was a pause and then he added with a pointed look, “Most of the time.”

 

Nick’s eyebrows rose. Obviously he hadn’t expected Sean to be fair towards her profession since he’d been one of those she’d been hired to kill. It went to show just how much of a monster Sergio was, in Kelly’s opinion, though whether or not Nick understood that was anyone’s guess.

 

“He’s a grimm,” Kelly said, taking over. “But he works freelance and takes pleasure in the hunt. And he’s not picky about whom he kills. Wesen, human, or grimm – he’ll kill whoever you want dead for the right price.” She paused for a moment and then said, “He’ll also do kidnappings and torture if you pay extra.”

 

“And my guess is that Pierre will have spared no expense to get a hold of you,” Sean added, knowing precisely what she was getting at.

 

With her, Pierre’s orders had been to draw Nick out. The how was left up to her and so she’d chosen to clean up his territory for him, to show him how it should be done. She had no doubt that those orders had changed with Sergio’s hiring and she worried for her son. Sergio could have the blutbad and fuchsbau, hell she’d be happy to take care of them before she left. But not Nick. She only wished she could stay and fight with him.

 

“And why has this new person been hired?” Nick asked, looking between the two of them.

 

“Because I got too close,” Kelly answered with a slight smile.

 

“To?” Nick prompted, apparently wanting to hear it from her.

 

“You,” she answered without hesitation.

 

He nodded, having known what she was going to say before she’d said it. “You mean when you kicked my ass in the forest?”

 

“No,” Kelly denied, smiling slightly at his phrasing. “Besides, you held up fairly well given the conditions.”

 

Across from her, Nick nodded but he looked as though he didn’t agree.

 

“So you’re here to give me warning of a new guy, why?”

 

“Because he’s dangerous,” Kelly answered. “And I wanted to put you on your guard. I knew that you’d be looking for me and wouldn’t see him coming until it was too late.”

 

“To ease your own guilt if something were to happen, no doubt,” Renard scoffed despite his tone being even.

 

Kelly let the barb pass, no matter how much she wished to retaliate. It was better to let Nick think that than to give him hope for a relationship with her when there wasn’t one to be had. Kelly had lost her heart, and in many ways her soul, the day Nick’s father had been killed and she’d been forced to run and there wasn’t any chance of getting it back.

Nick’s jaw clenched and he bent his head but it did little to hide how he was feeling from her. The fact that she hadn’t argued against Sean’s statement had stung him. Enough so that he couldn’t fully contain his reaction.

 

To give him the semblance of privacy, Kelly turned her head, choosing to glare at the royal while doing so. In that moment there seemed to be an understanding between the two of them. His expression was neutral, but in his eyes she saw that he knew the true reason why she’d come and that he was actually giving her an out to take if she wanted it.

 

And, oh how she hated that she was using it. The lone teardrop that she saw fall from her son’s eye just about made her take it back.

 

She nodded to the regnant, letting him know that she was grateful for what he’d done despite her anger about it as well.

 

“I have to go,” she announced, not seeing any reason to draw this out any longer than necessary. Nick didn’t show that he’d heard but she knew that he had. She took a deep, silent, breath and added, “Take care of yourself, Nick.”

 

She hoped that he could hear the words ‘I love you’ that she couldn’t bring herself to utter. They seemed to weep from what was left of her broken soul, flowing down her face like the tears she would never let escape.

 

She turned to the royal and gave him a look that said ‘take care of him’. He returned her look with one of his own that said ‘of course’ but nothing more.

 

With a nod of satisfaction that she was done here, she turned around and walked out, sure that the regnant could hear the small shards of her broken hard disappearing into dust, breaking for the last time.

 

**TBC**


	23. Chapter 23

**XXIII**

“She loves you,” Sean told Nick. He made sure to keep his voice confident, yet soft, hoping the grimm would believe him.

 

Shortly after Kelly had left, Sean had physically forced Nick to spread out on the couch. He’d propped the injured – and obviously hurting – leg on top of a few pillows and then had gone to grab some makeshift ice packs to place on top. Since then Nick hadn’t moved. He looked… well, the best word Sean could think of was stunned but he doubted that even came close to covering how the detective was feeling.

 

Though he kept his head bowed, Sean could still see evidence of tears forming in the beautiful blue eyes and he longed to be able to wipe them away. Perhaps that was what had had him telling Nick something he’d known despite Kelly’s attempts at making it seem otherwise.

 

It had been clear as day to Sean that the woman loved her son and that was the only reason she was there at the moment. Well, that and to assure herself, that should anything happen to Nick, that she’d done all she could have. Since she’d spent her life pretending to be something that she wasn’t – espionage and traitor were all part of being employed by the Renard family – she’d been able to convince her son that she didn’t care for him, something which Sean had happily helped with. He could hear the goodbye that she would never say and he knew that she was trying to sever ties without giving false hope.

 

“Well that’s something,” Nick quipped, not believing him as expected.

 

Sean let the comment go by. He knew that he wouldn’t make any head-way with Nick and so there was no point in wasting his breath to do so. Instead he sighed and put his hands into his pants pockets. The acrid smell of Nick’s pain was slowly diminishing from the air, leaving him able to breathe freely again. Though, considering he wasn’t planning on staying it wasn’t like that did him a lot of good.

 

“Okay, look, I’ve got some errands to run but I’ll be back before nightfall. Will you behave until then?”

 

“Behave?” Nick questioned, finally looking up at him.

 

Sean ignored the reflection of tear tracks on his cheeks and chose to focus on the confused tone in the other man’s voice. He smiled.

 

“Yes, behave. If the past twenty-four hours has taught me anything, it’s that you don’t necessarily like to take care of yourself and try to keep pain free.”

 

Nick smirked, the look a little colder than Sean would have liked.

 

“How do you know that I’m not just trying to tough it out because you’re here?” he challenged.

 

Sean tilted his head. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “But if that’s the case, then you should stop. I can always tell when you’re in pain and so there’s no point in trying to hide it.”

 

Nick blinked and then looked down at his hands, which Sean took for a concession that the grimm wouldn’t actually voice. He nodded, satisfied, and gathered up his coat and keys.

 

“You should call your friends,” he suggested as he donned his heavy overcoat and pulled on his leather gloves.

 

“Why?” Nick asked, his head cocking slightly in confusion.

 

“To warn them. As your mother said, they are on the lookout for her, not for a new hitter. And if the guy that I think is coming, is being sent, they _will_ want to be on alert for signs of him.” He paused for a moment to adjust himself, making the coat sit comfortably on his shoulders, and then added, “Trust me when I say, Nick, that Sergio is a vicious killer, and a grimm. He won’t hesitate to kill any wesen he sees no matter who they are and if any grimm opposes him, he’ll go after them as well.”

 

For a second Sean debated being more intimate with Nick but the grimm was radiating the need for distance and so Sean respected it, despite not wanting to.

 

“Be careful,” he added before walking out the door and heading to his own apartment.

 

**oOo**

Monroe had just finished replacing one of the gears on a 1967 Omega wristwatch when his phone went off. He looked down at the ID and then sent a silent prayer to the timing Gods, thanking them for fixing Nick’s apparent bad timing when he called.

 

“Yeah,” he answered, knowing that he needn’t have identified himself since it was Nick.

 

“Hey,” Nick’s low, grated voice answered. While Nick’s voice usually sounded low, this time it sounded it hadn’t been used for a while. Or, you know how someone’s voice sounds after they’ve been crying? Yeah, it kinda sounded like that too. “Are you busy today?”

 

“Uh, no?” Monroe answered, curious as to where this is going.

 

“Is that a statement or a question?” Nick asked, sounding a little bit annoyed, though Monroe doubted that he was.

 

“Oh, um, no, I’m not busy. Well, I just finished fixing an antique Omega and I think I had a Westminster Mantel to work on next. But if you needed me, I could come over. Why, what’s up?”

 

“I just had a visit from my mother,” Nick said, his voice getting, if possible, a little lower as he talked. There was some emotion that was corrupting it, that was for sure. But whether it was grief, sadness, or anger, Monroe honestly couldn’t tell.

 

“Dude,” Monroe said, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of Nick’s mother. He hadn’t come into close, personal contact with the Grimm but even he didn’t need to to know that she scared the crap outta him. “Is the house okay?” He winced at the question. He honestly didn’t want to know if the house was okay; he wanted to know if _Nick_ was okay. But since he doubted that Nick would answer honestly, asking after the house had slipped out instead.  

 

“Yeah, Monroe, the house is fine.” In Nick’s voice, Monroe could imagine the expression of ridicule on the Grimm’s face. “Look, can you and Rosalee come over? There’s something that I think you need to know.”

 

“Yeah, well, um, you know, I definitely can but I’m not so sure about Rosalee. I mean, I don’t know what she has going on today.” He paused and then remembered that he and Rosalee had a sort of date and added, “Well, actually, she and I did have lunch plans. There’s a large delivery coming in today and I told her I’d help her put it away.”

 

“Monroe, why don’t you just ask her out?” Nick asked, a smile now coming through. He sounded amused by Monroe’s predicament which annoyed the blutbad to no end. But even so, it was nice to hear the change in tone and it made him smile in turn.

 

“Because,” Monroe answered, making it sound like that was all he needed to say. “Look, she’s had a really hard time of things lately and I don’t think she’s open to starting a relationship right now. Okay?”

 

The words ‘back off’ were implied and he assumed that the Grimm could hear them because Nick didn’t argue against his reasoning. He chuckled a little, the sound coming across as breathy and making Monroe wonder if the man was in pain.

 

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “So when do you think you guys would be available to come by?”

 

“Oh, well we could grab some dinner and come by tonight,” Monroe suggested, guessing that the delivery was going to take a while to put away. That and he just wanted to spend some more time with Rosalee without the Grimm or Grimm business getting in the way.

 

“Sounds good,” Nick answered, sounding placated if not a bit unhappy at the lateness. “Bring enough for four.”

 

Monroe wrinkled his nose a little. “The Captain going to be there, I take it?” he ventured, knowing precisely who the other portion was for.

 

“Yeah,” Nick said, though he volunteered no further information on the subject. “Oh, and Monroe? Be careful.”

 

Well now, that was a bit puzzling. Evidently assuming that the conversation was over, Nick hung up without giving Monroe a chance to ask why he had to be careful. He shook his head and put his phone back down onto the table.

  
That was how Nick liked to operate. He would drop hints or say random but important things and then not give an explanation, leaving Monroe to attempt to figure out what in the hell was going on. It frustrated the blutbad to no end but as he’d steadily gotten used to it, he let it slide and went back to the watch. He had just enough time to put it back together as well as replace the band – at the request of the client, of course – before he had to meet up with Rosalee.

 

While he worked, his mind started to run. Nick was right, he _should_ just ask Rosalee out. But his reasons for not doing so were valid.

 

Damaged wouldn’t be the correct term to apply to the fuchsbau. It had the wrong connotation. But it was the only word that Monroe could currently come up with and so it was what he used. Her brother’s death had hit her harder than she would ever admit. It had left her guarded and somewhat distant. Monroe knew that wasn’t how she normally was as she’d shown herself to be warm and inviting in the right circumstances. He’d intentionally pulled her into his and Nick’s little club, hoping that being around two somewhat familiar faces in a place she no longer called home would help make her feel a bit more… well, loved. Sure, one of the two people was a Grimm, but she seemed to get over that really quickly once Monroe had vouched for Nick and the Grimm had helped catch the guys that had killed her brother. Now, it seemed that she didn’t mind helping the two out; she even appeared to enjoy it as far as Monroe could tell and if Thanksgiving was anything to go by, she had accepted them both as friends.

 

Even so, that didn’t mean that she was ready for a relationship and he wasn’t about to force her into one. When – or if – they got together, he wanted it to be because they _both_ wanted it; not because _he_ wanted it.

 

The watch on his wrist chirped, reminding him that it was time to leave and he did so gladly. He couldn’t help the smile that had spread onto his face at the thought of spending some alone time with Rosalee. But then again, why should he try? After all, there was no one around to see it. Right?

 

Climbing into his car, Monroe drove away. Completely unaware of a set of strange and unfriendly eyes tracking him with malicious intent.

 

**oOo**

Sergio watched from the shadows as the blutbad came out of its house, a wide grin on its face.

 

He had been in Juarez, keeping tabs on a mark when he’d received Mr. Renard’s call. The temptation to say no to another job had swiftly dissipated when he’d heard the price. Without another thought, he ended the current target’s life and left the poor excuse for a bar, intent on heading straight to Portland. Once Mr. Renard had heard this, he’d told Sergio to be patient. He’d said that he was sending a file over to the Hotel Encanto in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Apparently Sergio already had a room reserved and paid for in his name. He was to remain there for a day or two to peruse the file he was being sent and then he could take the first flight out to Portland once he was done.

 

Having worked for Mr. Renard before, he didn’t argue against the instructions; merely followed them. He was curious as to why he was being told to wait but he’d held onto it until he’d received the file and then it was obvious. The target he was after was a Grimm. Grimm’s were known to be harder to take down, fair enough. But that wasn’t all. Not only was the target a Grimm and he was being told to toy with said Grimm, but Mr. Renard’s brother was closely connected with the Grimm. That would make things more difficult, but not impossible. Since the target was the Grimm and not the brother, all Sergio had to do was separate the two – a feat that wasn’t too hard to accomplish since it didn’t appear that the two were particularly close beyond their acquaintance on the job.

 

Now all that was left was to put his plan into motion.

 

He smiled - the thing a cruel twist of his lips and nothing more.

 

_Smile all you like, blutbad. We’ll see how long it lasts once you’re within my grasp._

**oOo**

The day passed without incident and soon the sun started to set. Nick had done his best to stay busy so that he could keep his mind occupied while also taking care of his leg but it had been difficult. He’d been able to start a load of laundry and it had taken all his energy just to do that. Apparently doing simple things was going to be difficult for a while and it was beginning to frustrate him. He knew Sean would see this as a perfectly good reason to continue staying with him until he was more mobile. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Sean to stay with him. Truly, it wasn’t. It was more that Nick was used to a certain level of independence and privacy and with Sean here, he wouldn’t necessarily get either.

 

He hated being injured. Well, injured enough to be off his feet, at least. Bruised ribs and sore muscles were easy to deal with and fairly decent to work around. Being on crutches was another matter entirely. He glared at the instruments that leaned against the wall, just off to his left. He hadn’t tried going without them because he knew that he wouldn’t get far if he did. But though that may be the case, he still hated them for what they represented – weakness. He already knew that an apparently weakened Grimm was a target – he hadn’t needed Sean to tell him that last night – and now, between that and his mother’s visit, he was on edge.

 

Kylie’s nails clicked on the floor as she came over to him and put her head in his lap, her tail wagging. Throughout the day she had been a constant presence; always there at his side wherever he went. She seemed unnaturally attached to him and he couldn’t figure out why. Sure, he’d given her a warm place to sleep and some food. But that didn’t necessarily result in this level of loyalty, did it? She was even protective of him, which he couldn’t figure out either. Though he hadn’t put much thought into her reactions towards Sean and his mother at the time, he was now and he was puzzled.

 

She’d just given his hand a lick, her way of saying that she wanted some attention, when her ears perked up and she took her head out of his lap and turned towards the door. Her body looked tense as she listened for whatever it was she heard and then she was walking over to the door to sit and wait for whoever would undoubtedly be there.

 

“Hey, Nick, you mind getting the door? Our hands are kinda full,” Monroe’s voice called through the door.

 

With a smile, Nick got up to do as he was asked. He was puzzled by the fact that _both_ their hands were full but he supposed he’d find out why in about four seconds so he didn’t ask.

 

“What’s all this?” he asked once he had the door open and saw their arms laden with grocery bags – paper, not plastic. He hobbled back to allow the pair entry, watching them with a smile of surprise as they shuffled in with warm smiles on their faces.

 

“Well, we couldn’t decide on what to grab so we went with making something instead,” Rosalee answered as the three of them went into the kitchen.

 

Nick made sure to stay out of the way, off to the side, as they began to pull an assortment of vegetables, some rice, olive oil, as well as a bottle of white wine out of their bags and sort them onto the counter. He watched with a small smirk as Rosalee handed all the vegetables over to Monroe to let him chop them while she began to pull out a couple sauté pans and went to work with those.

 

“And you decided on?” he prompted, although he was pretty sure he already knew what it was.

 

“Vegan Butternut Squash Risotto,” Monroe answered with a broad grin and a little eyebrow wag that reminded Nick of the promise the blutbad had made to get him eating better.

 

Nick proceeded to roll his eyes but gave a small laugh anyways. “Right, well, what can I do?”

 

“You can go sit down and get out of the way,” Monroe answered as he busily chopped and then minced garlic. He paused to switch vegetables and gave Nick a pointed look, his eyes moving from Nick’s face down to his braced leg before looking away.

 

“What are you talking about? I’m not in the way,” Nick argued, holding his arms wide as though to show that he was the epitome of ‘not in the way’.

 

He looked over at Rosalee for help, but she merely raised her eyebrows and went back to prepping the pans and cooking the rice. Nick shifted a little to look back at Monroe, his injured leg coming down to touch the floor so that he could do it well. He instantly stopped and retracted his foot, though he had plans to put it back down once he thought he could breathe a bit easier. With the majority of the pain emanating from his knee, Nick didn’t even feel anything coming from the injured ankle; it was more a feeling of weakness than anything, really.

 

“Well, I was going to say that your friends want you to get off your feet before you hurt yourself, but I see that that is a moot point now.”

 

Sean’s voice startled the group and almost as one, they all jumped in surprise. The reaction wasn’t all that noticeable to anyone who’d been observing the group. But with the entire group being wesen or something else entirely, their sharp eyes noticed the movement and Sean smirked at them all.

 

“Dude! Don’t sneak up on someone with a knife in their hand,” Monroe chided, apparently having gotten over his fearful awe of Sean’s position and/or what he represented. “I could have cut my finger off or something.”

 

Sean’s smirk remained in place, his hazel eyes dancing almost merrily in amusement. Apparently he didn’t care that he could have potentially caused any of them harm. He was quiet enjoying the fact that none of them, with their inhanced hearing – well, Nick excluded since he had normal human hearing – had heard him enter the house.

 

“Letting yourself in, again, I see,” Nick sarcastically said. He shifted so that he could lean against the counter without the use of crutches and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Well, I knew how much you’d enjoyed it the last time I did it so I thought I’d do it again,” Sean returned offhandedly.

 

“You what?” Monroe interjected with wide eyes and a scandalous look on his face.

 

“No, not like that,” Nick shut down, his face wrinkling into an almost disgusted expression. When he looked back at Sean, it was to see that the regnant’s smile had gone and in its place was an unhappy frown, though Nick doubted any but him would have noticed it. “As I recall, I asked you _not_ to let yourself in anymore. You should be careful, _Captain,_ when you enter a detective’s home; you could find yourself with a bullet in your chest.”

 

At this, Monroe practically choked but he wisely said nothing and continued to chop what now appeared to be basil. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Rosalee give an eyebrow raise at him but she too remained silent as she stirred the risotto.

 

Instead of perceiving the statement as a threat, Sean smirked. “We both know that you could never shoot me,” he said, his voice dropping ever so slightly and his eyes heating in some undefinable emotion.

 

“Okay,” Monroe said, apparently picking up on something in the air that Nick had yet to grasp. “Should we leave you two alone?”

 

“No,” Sean answered for Nick. “It would be best if you both stayed. There’s some things that we all need to discuss.”

 

Wait, that we _all_ need to discuss? What was this? As far as Nick knew, he, Monroe, and Rosalee were the only ones that needed to talk about anything. Sean wasn’t needed for any part of this conversation and the regnant knew it.

 

“Oh we do?” he asked, wanting to confirm that Sean meant to be in the middle of the conversation.

 

“Yes, Nick, we do,” Sean answered. His hands had remained inside his pants pockets all this time but now he pulled them out and crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Nick to an extent. “I’m sure your friends would like to know what all we’ve talked about concerning us. And since I know the blutbad can be very protective of you,” – at this Monroe let out a small puff of annoyance and Rosalee choked on a chuckle – “I thought it wise to assure them that I’m not taking advantage of you or of my position.”

 

Nick cocked his head to the side and his left eyebrow rose in a challenge while his mind echoed with, “ _As though you_ could _take advantage of me._ ”

 

Sean returned his look with an even expression. Then, in a flash, he was standing in front of Nick, blocking the Grimm’s view of everything else. Without waiting for Nick’s mind to catch up to his eyes, Sean leant in and kissed Nick, making sure to take care not to hurt him in the process.

 

The kiss was soft, almost as though it were asking for permission to happen. But behind it, Nick felt all the love that Sean felt and he felt the passion and desire to not only do this more than now but to deepen the kiss and add more strength to it.

 

Strong arms wrapped themselves around him and it was then that his mind registered that he’d been knocked off balance by the addition of another person and that Sean was essentially keeping him upright. Pain flared in Nick’s side where Sean’s hand had fastened itself but he barely felt it. His mind was awash with many thoughts that he knew he’d spend the night sorting through. However, topmost of those was the constant change of, “More!”

 

It was then that Nick found himself pulling Sean against him, just enough to get them closer. He deepened the kiss, chewing a little on Sean’s lip in the process.

 

“Uh, guys?” Monroe’s voice broke through, hesitant and confused. The two men stopped and looked over at the Blutbad. “You wanna take this to the living room so that Rosalee and I can continue making dinner?”

 

Okay, so that hadn’t been the reaction that Nick had expected Monroe to give. He was thankful that his friend was being so accepting of the whole situation but he hadn’t thought that the blutbad would have been so blasé about it, given his reaction the night before.

 

Even more puzzling was Nick’s own reaction. Though he’d recognized that he and Sean were now bonded, he hadn’t realized just how much he felt for the man. Until now. His nerves felt as though they were buzzing with need. His heart had picked up in speed and though he couldn’t see himself in the mirror, Nick knew that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were brightened by arousal. Oh, he wanted Sean, probably just as badly as Sean evidently wanted him – there was no doubt about that.

 

And, to some degree, Nick refused to. He knew that it was only natural for him to question his “sudden” physical and emotional attraction to the man. But, he realized, that part was over with. He’d accepted both. He’d accepted that there was something more to his and Sean’s relationship above boss-employee and he was open to exploring things further. Nick realized with so much clarity that he was done with guessing or doubting his feelings for and around his boss. He had them. They were there. Now, he wanted more. And if the heat in Sean’s eyes were anything to go by, so did the regnant.

 

Sean and Nick gave each other a questioning look – each one asking the other if they were alright with that. Nick did want to go into the living room and continue the make-out session. Oh how much he wanted to! But! He didn’t want to leave his friends in his kitchen, alone and working. It felt discourteous somehow to him. He felt like he should lend a hand somewhere, somehow.

 

His knee chose that moment to remind him that he’d put too much pressure on it earlier and that it wasn’t happy about it. A particularly nasty throb vibrated through his leg and Nick couldn’t stifle his reaction to it. His muscles tensed and his grip tightened around Sean’s waist as the pain engulfed him. His jaw clenched and he drew in a hissing breath – the only sound that he’d give if he could help it.

 

“Come on, let’s get you on the couch,” Sean whispered as he wrapped his arm around Nick’s back.

 

Blue-green eyes shot up to meet concerned hazel and any thought that Nick had about arguing dissipated like morning mist. Though he wanted to stay and help, he knew that he was limited on what he could do and apparently his knee was wanting him to elevate it for a bit. So, he gave in.

 

When it appeared that Sean was about to carry him, Nick glared at him and grabbed his crutches. The corner of Sean’s lips quirked upwards in a smile but he stepped back and gave Nick room to leave. He was very aware of Sean dogging his steps as though he expected Nick’s own to falter and the Grimm to fall. But he reached the couch without incident and as soon as Sean saw that, he left to go back into the kitchen, returning with a couple familiar-looking icepacks in his hands.

 

Nick sat down on the couch without complaint and began to lift his leg onto the spot beside him. Strong hands soon joined in the effort as Sean helped and then he sat down so that he was in a good position to place pillows beneath the leg and the icepacks on top.

 

“I see you’ve accepted things,” he casually dropped in as he placed the first icepack on top of Nick’s knee.

 

Nick squirmed away from the cold, but Sean’s hand firmly held onto his shin, his thumb rubbing along the muscle in soothing strokes. Nick’s eyes closed as he simply let himself feel the touch and he slouched a little in the process.

 

“So what if I have,” he challenged, wincing when cold enveloped his ankle and foot.

 

“That, my dear Grimm, I shall leave up to you,” Sean responded. His hand left Nick’s leg and his weight disappeared from the couch.

 

Annoyingly, Nick found that he couldn’t command his eyes to open. He suddenly felt very tired and no matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn’t bring himself to physically look over to see what Sean was doing.

 

Above him, he heard Sean chuckle and then he felt Sean give him a kiss on the forehead.

 

“Rest, Nick. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.”

 

And with the feeling of love surrounding him, Nick drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

 

**TBC**


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am changing the timeline of some episodes to suit my purposes – namely that of getting Monroe and Rosalee together. Hope you don’t mind :)
> 
> M

**Chapter XXIV**

Sean watched Nick fall asleep with a smile on his face. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Nick had given in as easily as he had. He doubted that the Grimm had taken his advice and taken it easy today and so his body had begun demanding that he rest. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Nick from enthusiastically returning Sean’s kiss.

 

Another quirk of the lips showed Sean smiling again. Ah that kiss. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting for that to happen but he knew that it had been over a year, if not longer. For a while he’d had Adalind to assuage his desires. She hadn’t known that the entire time they’d been “together”, he’d been thinking of Nick and since Sean hadn’t felt the need to tell her, he was sure that she still didn’t know. Sean had secretly been glad when Nick had triumphed over her during their fight and he hadn’t lost sleep in sending the former hexenbiest away. However, her departure had left him feeling more than a little riled with desire. But he wouldn’t do anything to appease it. He knew that taking care of himself wouldn’t do and he refused to be with anyone else unless it was the Grimm and so he’d left it.

 

But now, his gut roiled with that need and he felt the lingering sensation of hardness in his groin just waiting to activate again. If Nick hadn’t been injured, he would have taken the man so much deeper. But as it was he’d had to hold Nick up while they kissed and so he knew that doing more wasn’t feasible. Not yet at any rate.

 

The sound of the dog’s nails clicking on the floor above him drew his attention to the upstairs and he immediately thought of Nick lying in that bed, though the Grimm wasn’t there. He’d had trouble sleeping last night due to the nature of his thoughts. He hadn’t been able to get the picture of Nick lying on the bed looking vulnerable out of his head.

 

At first, he had dreamed of hordes of verrat coming after the injured Grimm. Sometimes there was only a few and either he or Nick’s friend Monroe had been able to dispatch the threat but other times there had simply been too many and Nick had been one of the many casualties.

 

But then his mind had changed the image of Nick being dressed and injured to Nick being naked and waiting for him. That was when the real trouble with sleep had started. At times Nick had been naked and more than willing and others, Sean would have the pleasure of undressing the Grimm. He’d always made sure to do it slowly, teasing Nick’s flesh as he went. After that last dream, Sean had given up trying to sleep. He’d briefly thought about going upstairs to check on Nick but he could tell from the smell on the air and the complete lack of sound that the detective was sleeping soundly and so he had remained downstairs, allowing the younger man to rest as much as he could.

 

A clank of pans and serving dishes brought the regnant back to the present and soon he found himself walking into the kitchen. The blutbad and the fuchsbau were assembling the dinner into bowls, smiling and quietly chatting.

 

“Oh, good timing,” the blutbad greeted, having noticed him first.

 

 _No, not “the blutbad”, Monroe,_ he reminded himself. Since this was a couple of Nick’s closest friends, Sean was determined to make an effort at getting to know the pair. Since his skills at small talk were severely lacking, it was a difficult task but Sean was determined.

 

“Dinner’s mostly ready. We’re just finishing the fine touches,” Monroe continued without seemingly to notice that anything was amiss in Sean’s demeanor. The bread knife sliced through a loaf of French bread with ease, its blade ringing sharply through the kitchen air.

 

“What can I do to help?” Sean offered, loosening his stance and taking off his suit jacket.

 

“You can gather the drinks,” the fuchsbau, Rosalee, answered as she swept passed him to put the bowls on to the table.

 

Having remembered that Nick kept the cups in the same cupboard as the coffee mugs, Sean went right to it and pulled out four. Almost as an afterthought, he checked the refrigerator to see what all Nick had. While Sean didn’t mind drinking water, he was in the mood for something else and hoped to find it among the contents of the cold box. He smiled when he found several six-packs of some very expensive beer, cooling in the fridge. Grabbing three, Sean filled one glass with water and then carried them all to the table.

 

“Should we wake Nick?” the blutbad asked, wiping his hands on his pants as he and the fuchsbau stood at the table.

 

“Let him sleep,” Sean decided without taking the time to consider it. He knew that Nick had wanted to be woken for dinner so that he could talk with his friends but Sean’s main concern was for Nick, not his friends. At any rate, he could easily explain the situation to the pair; Nick wasn’t necessary for that conversation.

 

The fuchsbau wasn’t having it, however.

 

“We should wake him,” she said as she walked over to do just that. Sean watched as she leaned down and began to shake Nick’s shoulder. He heard her call the Grimm’s name a few times and then he heard said Grimm respond, mumbling sleepily. Eventually she was able to coax him awake and soon enough they were making their way to the table.

 

Monroe and Rosalee sat down almost immediately while Sean remained standing, waiting for Nick to sit down first before he followed suit. Sean sat on Nick’s left, directly across from the blutbad who, along with the fuchsbau, sat on the opposite side of the table.

 

It took a few minutes, but eventually Nick woke up and the conversation flowed freely and lightly between the three friends. Sean stayed out of it, choosing to remain silent rather than attempt to get in the middle of a conversation that he knew nothing about. He smiled when he thought it was necessary, not showing how uncomfortable he was truly feeling. At times the smile was genuine but most of the time it was faked. Hearing Nick laugh, however, set his nerves ablaze and he found himself effortlessly smiling in response to the sound.

 

Sooner rather than later, the conversation turned towards the events of the night before as well as the visit that Nick had from his mother this morning.

 

“So, what did your mother want?” Rosalee asked. She slipped a bit of the risotto into her mouth as she waited for Nick’s reply.

 

Nick’s eyes flicked up to focus on the fuchsbau, his smile frozen in place and looking just as cold. With a sigh, the Grimm put his fork down and pushed his plate aside. Evidently he didn’t want to be eating while he had this conversation. He placed his arms on the table and leaned forward so that he could focus on his friends more easily. His posture screamed ‘serious’ and Sean wanted to laugh at it. While the situation _was_ a serious one, it wasn’t as though it were _that_ dire.

 

 _Perhaps it is to Nick,_ his mind retorted, reminding him that these were Nick’s closest friends. They were almost like family to the Grimm and Sean knew that there likely wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t do for them. Which made the fact that there was a highly trained assassin coming to Portland, specifically to kill them a _huge_ deal to Nick; even if it wasn’t to Sean.

 

“She wanted to warn me that a new threat was coming,” Nick answered, looking his friends in the eyes.

 

“Uh, isn’t your mother the threat?” the blutbad answered. His eyes flicked between Nick and Sean, looking for a clue that would give him an answer.

 

“Not anymore apparently,” Nick said with an amused-looking smile stuck on his face. He sat back in his chair, looking partly relaxed though Sean knew it was only a ruse.

 

Through the bond, Sean could tell just how on edge the detective was about the whole thing. It sounded like someone playing a strained, staccato note on a violin and it hurt his ears to hear. Sean wanted nothing more than to reach out to the younger man and do something that would calm him – if for nothing more than to stop the sound from tearing through his eardrums – but since their relationship was still relatively new, he kept his hands – and his desires – to himself.

 

Something of them must have transferred through the bond, though, because as soon as Sean reigned himself in, Nick’s eyes flicked over to him. The beautiful blue was still somewhat chilled but it heated up a little when they focused on Sean. They didn’t stare at each other long but it was enough to let Sean know that Nick was okay with being touched. The regnant did so gladly, ashamed at how quickly he reached out after being given permission. He made sure to keep the motion fluid and looking as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing as he placed his arm along the back of Nick’s chair and slowly began to rub light circles into his tense shoulders and neck. The violin in the background smoothed to a tune that made Sean think of a summer’s night spent out under the stars and he knew that he was helping to relax the Grimm.

 

“Okay?” Monroe said, his tone indicating that he’d like a better explanation.

 

“It seems that my brother has brought in a new Grimm to do what Kelly could not,” Sean answered for Nick. His hazel eyes slid over to look at his newly bonded mate and his blood boiled at the thought of what Pierre had in store for him.

 

“Who?” the fuschbau asked.

 

“His name is Sergio,” Sean answered, taking over entirely for Nick since he knew more about the man than Nick did.

 

“Apparently he’s quite the badass,” Nick quipped with a dryness in his tone.

 

“Okay. Well, if he’s so dangerous then how come I’ve never heard of him?” Monroe asked, looking between the two men again.

 

“He mainly operates in the southern hemisphere and, until now, wisely stayed out of Portland.”

 

The regnant within growled at the challenge to its authority and Sean almost joined it. The fact that his brother had the audacity to send Kelly Burkhardt here to draw Nick out was one thing but to send a vicious monster like Sergio – and that coming from Sean was saying something – was unforgiveable. He already had Adalind’s former sisters searching for information on his brother’s whereabouts. When they found him, Sean would take great pleasure in tearing Pierre limb from limb. Until then, however, he would have to be patient and keep a close watch on his mate.

 

“What does he look like?” Rosalee asked looking solely on Sean now that she knew who had the most information. Sean almost smiled at her for asking the right questions so that she could be on the lookout. Since he didn’t know her that well, however, he didn’t, letting a small upwards quirk of his lips be the furthest he’d go.

 

“Nobody knows,” Sean answered. Everyone at the table gave him a doubtful look and he continued, “He’s known by name only. He – as well as my brother – has the means and contacts to change his physical appearance so that he’s never recognized.. It’s part of what makes him so threatening.”

 

“What’s the rest?” the Blutbad asked.

 

Sean paused a little, trying to decide how to best answer the question.

 

“Try to think of the most vicious creature you know,” he said, figuring this to be simpler.

 

“That’s easy,” Monroe said with a slight smile. “A Grimm.”

 

Beside Sean, Nick shifted a little, drawing the Blutbad’s attention and making him look a bit guiltily. Understanding where Monroe was coming from, Sean gave a little smirk.

 

It was an apt comparison. Most wesen feared Grimms because of the tales they’d been brought up on as children. Those like the Blutbad, who came from more dangerous lineages, were right to fear a Grimm coming to claim their heads. While most Grimms fell in the middle of the spectrum – between Nick, who was the least harmful Grimm known to man, and Sergio, who was the most dangerous – there were some breeds that not even they would make an exception for. Blutbadden, Lowen, Skalengeck, and Hässlichen were at the top of the list simply because they were the most common. Others like Daemonfeuren and, even, Regnants were also there but since they were rarer, they weren’t mentioned as often. Unless they were caught in the physical act of doing something the Grimm thought wrong, the other wesen were generally let go.

 

“Yes well, now imagine a Grimm without a soul or a conscience. A Grimm who kills indiscriminately, without remorse, and without mercy. One who kills human, wesen, alike and who enjoys it so much that he tries to prolong it as much as possible,” Sean prompted then watched as both the Blutbad and Fuchsbau shivered in fear. “ _That_ is what makes him so dangerous.”

 

The two wesen looked at each other with wide eyes. Their fear was palpable and the regnant licked at it in pleasure. It wasn’t Sean’s main purpose to make these two afraid. But he was known for being brutally honest and he wasn’t about to sugarcoat things now. Not even for Nick.

 

“So, then, what about your mother?” the fuchsbau asked, leaning in a little and looking at Nick with concerned interest.

 

On the air – or so Sean had thought – there was a quiet cry. Upon listening closer, he was able to figure out that what he was hearing was the bond and it was playing a mournful tune. Sean knew that Nick’s mother’s refusal to be a part of his life, to stay and give them a chance to reconnect had cut Nick deeply. It was understandable. What child wouldn’t want a relationship with its mother after said mother had been gone for so long? Thought dead, even. But Sean also understood that, for Kelly Burkhardt, it could never happen. She was too scarred by the world, by her newfound line of work, for that to be possible.

 

Upstairs, Nick’s dog whimpered and then soon there was the tell-tale signs of it coming down the stairs and into the dining room where they were all seated. It came up to sit on Nick’s right, putting its head on his right thigh and nudging his hand, which was not far from its nose. For a minute it seemed that Nick was going to ignore the animal, but then it whimpered again and gave his hand a lick, prompting the Grimm to smile down at it and start petting it.

 

“Hey you,” he greeted, the smile on his face not quite reaching his voice or his eyes. “Do you want to go outside?”

 

The dog’s eyebrows rose and its tail wagged but it didn’t move. After a minute more of hand licking, the dog’s head moved down towards Nick’s braced knee and then it left, going over to the blutbad instead.

 

“What? Why are you comin’ to me? He’s the master,” Monroe complained, pointing over at Nick when he was mentioned.

 

The dog sat and kept looking at Monroe, showing a stubbornness that was often attributed to a certain Grimm.

 

“I think she knows that it wouldn’t be a good idea for Nick to take her outside,” the fuchsbau interjected with her voice giving the impression that that should have been obvious.

 

Monroe gave a blank look before it apparently came to him the truth of the matter and he then sighed as he placed his fork onto his plate and stood up to let the dog out. Once that was finished, he went into the kitchen, probably to check and make sure that the animal had food and water before he returned to the table and resumed his focus on Nick.

 

“So, is your mom, like, gonna stick around, or what?” he asked, bringing the conversation to where it had been left.

 

Nick gave a humorless smirk, which, judging from the looks his two friends gave each other, was all that the group needed as an answer. But he still added, “No, she’s gone back to wherever she came from. You guys don’t have to worry about her.”

 

“Just a psychopathic killer who doesn’t care whether anyone in this city lives or dies,” Sean added with a bit of a smirk of his own.

 

“Y’know, given a choice between the two, I think I’d rather have your mother,” Monroe said.

 

“You and me, both,” Nick answered with another cold smirk. He inhaled deeply and then let it out, looking as though he were trying to revive himself as well as the conversation. This time when he smiled, it was much warmer. “So, what’s for desert?”

 

**oOo**

Monroe kept a steady eye on Nick all through the night. He was only partially shocked when the royal had moved in on the Grimm and kissed. The full force of it hit him when Nick actually _kissed the regnant back_! Sure, Monroe knew about the Bond and, in theory he knew what it entailed but he hadn’t expected it to take hold quite as quickly as it had. He’d expected Nick to fight it some more since this was the first of Monroe’s hearing that Nick was bi. But either the Grimm was done fighting it or he wasn’t trying very hard because lo and behold, there he had been, kissing his boss with enough vigor to match his mate, despite being injured.

 

Of course, Nick’s show of pain shortly afterwards calmed them both and they were kicked out of the kitchen under the pretense of letting Monroe and Rosalee work. In truth, the pair hadn’t been in the way but Monroe had been wanting to get Nick off his leg ever since he’d gotten there and it had been apparent that the man was hurting more than he was letting on and so he’d gone alone with the ruse – which he knew wasn’t fooling anyone, by the way – anyways.

 

He’d tried to talk to Rosalee about what had just happened but every time he brought it up, she would simply smile and say that, as long as this was what Nick wanted, she was happy for them and so should he. Monroe had taken a little offence to this. After all, he _was_ happy for Nick. He just also happened to be a bit worried for his friend. None of them knew what effects the bond would have on Nick. But since he hadn’t been able to engage Rosalee any further on the matter, he let it drop and filed his questions for Nick for a later date.

 

Through dinner, Monroe had continued to watch Nick, and the royal’s interaction with him, and though he was pleased to find that the regnant wasn’t taking advantage of his friend, the stress and sadness that seemed to weigh on Nick like a wet, heavy blanket were worrying. When the cause for them had been explained, Monroe no longer felt much worry for Nick. It had shifted to Rosalee and himself. This new Grimm sounded beyond dangerous and he wasn’t looking forward to the edge that he would be teetering on until something actually came about with the new threat.

 

The group – sans the royal, of course – laughed when Nick asked about desert. It was a good icebreaker. Especially since neither Monroe nor Rosalee had brought or made any. Monroe had been quick to point out that he’d just made Nick dinner but that hadn’t stopped the Grimm from smirking after he’d asked why they hadn’t also made desert. Monroe had then offered a beer as desert, which Nick had gladly taken him up on, but the royal had put a stop to that, citing that Nick needed to take his pain medication and that it was best not to mix the two. He then herded Nick over to the couch, leaving Monroe and Rosalee to clean up.

 

They’d taken their time, not in any hurry to leave their friend. They wanted to talk to him some more about, well, everything. But one look at Nick, after they’d finished, they knew that he wasn’t up to more questions. Whatever he’d done during the day had, seemingly, worn him out and though he was putting up a good front, they could tell that he was tired. So, they bid him goodnight and told him they’d talk to him tomorrow.

 

Now, they stood outside Rosalee’s car, doing their best not to stare at one another.

 

“So,” Monroe said, looking away quickly before he did something he wasn’t sure he should do.

 

“So,” she returned, a smile on her face that spoke of her teasing him.

 

He smiled appreciatively at the gesture, then he laughed self-consciously. Looking down at the hands he’d nervously stuffed inside his jeans pockets, Monroe laughed again and decided to go for it.

 

“Would you, that is, uh. Well, I was going through my attic the other day – I was looking for this beautiful antique cuckoo that my great-great-great-great-grandfather had; it’s this beautifully hand-crafted clock, made in Germany for my great-great-great-great-grandmother as a wedding gift, you know, something to prove that he was a good mate for her. And, well, I didn’t find it, but I did find my grandfather’s old picnic basket and I thought, ‘Hey, this would be nice to use with Rosalee,’ so what do you think?”

 

“Of, the cuckoo?” Rosalee answered, sounding confused but looking anything but. She smiled at him and he laughed again.

 

“No, of the picnic! Now, I know it’s not picnicking weather right now but I know this great little spot that’s indoors and would be perfect for it.”

 

Monroe’s heart was racing as he waited for Rosalee to answer. Inside his pockets, his palms were actually sweating, so he rubbed them against his legs to rid himself of the moisture. He’d been just about to take the whole idea back when she answered,

 

“I’d love to go on a picnic with you, Monroe.”

 

Unable to stop himself, Monroe grinned like an idiot. He almost reached out to hug her in celebration but he held himself back, figuring that the gesture wouldn’t be appreciated just yet. That didn’t stop his heart from fluttering like a butterfly and his feet from feeling like he was walking on clouds. He’d felt all this before, but it had also had another feeling attached to it – recklessness. Angelina hadn’t been good for him but at the time he hadn’t known that and he’d believed himself to be in love. Now he knew that that wasn’t what love had felt like. _This_ was.

 

“Okay,” he answered, fidgeting a little since he didn’t know what to do next. “Well then.”

 

“I should go,” Rosalee said, pointing to her car and giving them both a reason to do something other than stand out in the cold. “I have the shop in the morning.”

 

“Yeah, and I have a big work order to do for some rich guy.”

 

Monroe waved off the appointment like it was nothing but he was actually really excited about that, but at the moment it seemed like a miniscule detail compared to his date with Rosalee. Given their now-dangerous situation, he should probably mention the appointment to someone – especially given what had happened the last time he’d gotten a mysterious work order and had gotten jumped by the Verrat instead. He made a mental note to tell Nick about it in the morning.

 

Right now, he didn’t want to focus on anything else but his upcoming date.

 

“Well,” Rosalee said, breaking the silence this time. She hesitantly stepped forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight,” she bid and then got in her car.

 

It took Monroe a minute to realize that she was leaving and he quickly said, “Good night.” But it was too late. Rosalee had gotten in her car and already began to drive away by the time his brain had caught up with his eyes. He sighed, the breath appearing on the air like smoke, and smiled.

 

Tomorrow was going to be a great day.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter XXV**

 

Once Monroe and Rosalee were gone, Nick lowered himself onto the couch. Having been tired of being treated with kid gloves, he’d insisted on helping clean up. Of course, he hadn’t been able to do much, given the crutches, but he’d done what he could. Once that had been finished, with thankfully little to no comment about him helping, he’d reminded Monroe and Rosalee to be careful and watch their backs and then had bid them goodbye. Now that they were gone, and the house was quieter, Nick had time to deflate a little.

 

His knee sent a deep throb of pain when it was jarred and it reminded him of the reason why he was hurt in the first place. His heart ached at the thought of his mother. The fact that she had been slowly planning to kill every wesen Nick knew, including his friends, was hard to swallow. Not only that, but it pissed him off. The idea that _anyone_ was planning on going after his newly-minted family made his blood boil and Nick clenched his teeth in anger. That it would have been his own mother added a bit of guilt and betrayal to the mix. Then she withdrew her services and told him that someone else would be taking over. At first Nick had felt relief. And not just a little bit of hope. That hope was shattered – along with Nick’s heart – when she announced that she would be leaving and that she wouldn’t be coming back.

 

Water splashed onto his hand, bringing him back to reality. He breathed for the first time in what felt like a long time, and more tear drops fell down his cheeks. Nick quickly brushed them away and tried to regain control of his emotions.

 

The more he tried not to think of her and just how much her permanent refusal of him hurt, however, the more he did just that.

 

“Nick?”

 

Sean’s voice pulled Nick towards the entryway of the living room. He stood in the center with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders back, relaxed. His gaze appeared neutral, but through a feeling which sounded like music that sang in the back of his mind, Nick could tell that the man was concerned, albeit reservedly so.

 

“Well, that was a fun night,” Nick said after drawing in a deep inhale. He watched as Sean offered a slight smile and knew his attempt at lightening the mood, or perhaps even changing the subject entirely, had failed.

 

"I'm not sure your friends would put it that way," Sean returned, coming to sit down in the armchair to Nick's left. He settled against the old, faded leather seat and crossed his left leg over his right. In one of his hands he held a chipped mug with steam floating above it, disappearing into the air as it dissipated. His face held a smirk but for the life of him, Nick couldn't tell what his mate was thinking. He wasn't sure he wanted to, to be quite frank.

 

"Still," he continued, "It's good that they know about Sergio. It would be worse for them if they hadn't."

 

Nick shivered at the implication. Sean was making the new Grimm sound like a demon. For all his lack of soul, the man was after all, just a man. Surely he wasn't all that bad. But then again, maybe Nick just wasn't fully grasping how dire the situation now was. That was certainly possible - although he'd never admit it out loud - but he doubted it. He put some credit to how bad this guy appeared to the fact that Monroe, Rosalee and Sean were wesen. They thought that this guy was the devil because they'd been raised to believe that all like him - meaning Grimms - were demons themselves. As far as he knew, Nick was the only Grimm who not only tolerated wesen, but tried to help them and even befriended them. He was, apparently, a rare breed himself.

 

"You look tired," Sean observed, his expression never changing. His eyes seemed more keen to observe and watch Nick, more focused on him, but that was about it.

 

Nick thought about denying the statement, but he couldn't. Not only was he a terrible liar but Sean would know that it wasn't the truth through whatever he heard or felt through the bond that they now shared.

 

Ah yes, _the bond_. Although Sean had explained as much of it as he could, Nick was still trying to understand what exactly having this bond entailed and what it meant for his and Sean's relationship as well as Nick himself. He now knew that it could weaken Sean and his position within the community, but what did it mean for Nick? How would it weaken him? Would it strengthen him as Sean had insinuated the other night?

 

"Well, that would be because I am," Nick answered, throwing in a half smile which barely reached a quarter its normal strength.

 

The left side of Sean's lips quirked upward, the only sign of a smile that he would give, and then lowered his leg and leaned forward to place his mug on the table.

 

"Then perhaps we should get you to bed," he said, standing up and waiting for Nick to do the same.

 

"You just want to get me in bed," Nick retorted suggestively. Even so, he began the tedious process of standing up. It took a bit longer than it normally would due to his sleepy state, but it happened and then he began to carefully maneuver the staircase with Sean right behind him in case he should fall.

 

"Maybe," Sean conceded, "but not tonight.” They reached the top landing and Sean came to stand just in front of his left, so that they were facing one another. He cocked his head ever so slightly to his left, as though using it to get a better look at Nick, and observed, “It looks as though you're not up to much at the moment."

 

Well that was certainly true. That didn't mean that Nick wasn't willing to try.

 

He opened his mouth to say precisely that but then something stopped him. Taking a moment to catch his breath he tried to determine what it was that had stopped him. The sound that was so harmoniously purring earlier was now screeching like a cat in staccato heat. There was a warning in that sound that told Nick not to push and, instinctively, he'd listened. It bothered him how easily he’d been swayed by a sound that he hadn’t even realized he’d heard and his expression scrunched slightly to show it.

 

Deciding that figuring out the implications and trying to find a way to control his knee-jerk reactions to the bond could wait until he was sitting down, Nick began to make his way to his bedroom. Kylie was laying on his bed when he entered, her tail thumping on the bedspread when she saw him. She lifted her head and her ears perked and Nick smiled at her. He’d told her that she wasn’t going to be spending a lot of time on his bed; clearly he’d been wrong. He didn’t bother trying to tell her to get down. It would be nice to have another warm body sleeping with him tonight since Sean wouldn’t be joining him.

 

Sean remained in the doorway as Nick placed his crutches against the wall by his side of the bed and then sat down on it. Nick took a moment to release a sigh of relief and then he began to disrobe. He reversed the steps he’d taken this morning, taking extra care when he slipped his pants off, and then lifted his body so that he could scoot back against the pillows without tugging on his knee.

 

Once he was settled, Sean fully entered the room and gathered up the clothes he’d haphazardly discarded onto the chair in the corner, tossing them into the hamper and then coming to stand beside Nick.

 

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his eyes roaming freely over Nick’s mostly-naked form. The hungry look in them made Nick shiver in pleasant anticipation. He watched as the hazel heated to a burnt orange and his skipped a beat as desire spread through him.

 

Sean smirked, the orange cooling to a brown before returning to the normal hazel color. “Not tonight Nick,” he reminded and teased in one. He leaned down and gently ran his hand along-side Nick’s cheek, the caress loving and soft, and then stood up and walked to the door. Nick was annoyed to find that his heart sank when he realized that Sean wasn’t going to give him a goodnight kiss and he hoped his expression didn’t betray him.

 

“Good night, Nick,” Sean bid as he turned the light off. he waited for a span of thirty seconds and then he half-closed the door, leaving enough room for Kylie to get out of she needed to, and walked back downstairs.

 

Knowing that he’d be heard, Nick whispered, “Good night Sean,” and then he patiently waited for his mind to calm, his heart to slow, and darkness to envelop him.

 

**oOo**

 

The rest of the weekend passed in similar fashion. Nick and Sean stayed at the house, each trying to ignore their own desires in order to give Nick time to heal. Sometime during Saturday, the doorbell had rung but when Sean went to see who was there, he found an empty space where a person should have been. Only a mason jar with Nick’s name written on it and a note being held underneath it showed that someone had been there. When Sean had brought the jar to Nick and Nick had read the note, he’d smiled and explained that he had a very jumpy neighbor, an eisbeiber, who was always trying to take care of him. There was no doubt, therefore, left in Sean’s mind that the wesen had smelled him in the house and had quickly scurried away. Even so, he’d inquired after the contents of the jar and after having been told what was in it, he had gladly volunteered to slather the ointment over Nick’s knee.

 

It had been very hard to control himself the night before when Nick had been lying in the bed, mostly naked and just waiting for him. The desire that had rolled off him had made Sean’s body react in many ways - though he’d hoped that he’d hid them - and when Nick’s wanting increased, he’d had a hard time walking away. It would have been so easy to take the man then and there, injury be damned. In truth, he could have taken Nick no matter if the Grimm had wanted him or not but he would never force Nick into anything involving their relationship, and he had begun to doubt that he’d be able to force Nick into anything outside of their relationship either - the man was proving stubbornly resistant to him - and so he’d kept himself in check - barely - and had left before anything had happened.

 

The ointment had been thick and uncomfortable for Sean to have on his hands. Even so, he’d taken great care in applying it, making sure that his touch was as gentle and unnoticeable as a feather landing on the bruised skin and liberally spread it far past where it had needed to be. He’d kept up the constant reapplication, watching in satisfaction as the knee had slowly begun to heal - albeit faster than was normal - as the weekend had progressed. By Sunday night Nick still needed to use the crutches to get around - and wasn’t that a fight that Sean had enjoyed a little too much? - but he was no longer in as much pain nor did he tire out as quickly as he had just a few days before.

 

Now it was Monday and Sean sat in his office at the precinct, doing his best not to appear eager for Nick’s arrival. Hank had texted him earlier that morning to inform him that he’d be bringing Nick to work and so all there was for him to do was stay busy and wait.

 

Luckily, staying busy wasn’t that hard. There were quite a few emails that he needed to return - some of which had dummy email accounts so they couldn’t be traced to the actual person - and a few phone calls to return. He’d managed to lose himself so well in those that he hadn’t noticed that it was now two hours past the time that Nick was supposed to have come in and he still hadn’t felt the man’s presence via their bond. Lifting his head, Sean looked around the precinct, his agitation increasing when he found no signs of Nick or Hank within it.

 

Sgt Wu briskly knocked on his door and the entered, a file in his hands.

 

“Captain?” he said, asking for entrance. When Sean waved him in, he handed the file over. “This came in while you were on the phone with the Mayor’s office. Mavis Kerfield found dead in her home, all the glass in the immediate vicinity broken. No signs of forced entry.”

 

Sean briefly read over the file, guessing the answer to his upcoming question but figuring it best to ask anyways. “Who’s on it?”

 

“Hank and Nick volunteered,” Wu answered, confirming Sean’s assumption. “I tried to find someone else, seeing as Nick is still on crutches, but they grabbed it out of my hands before I had a chance to.” He looked around as though making sure he wasn’t going to be heard and then he leaned in a little. “Personally, I think they just didn’t want to do their paperwork, but that’s just one lowly sargent's opinion.”

 

At that, Sean smirked. “Yes, well, neither one has really been much of a desk-job kind of person,” he said, doing his best not to infer that he only meant Nick in that sentence.

 

“True,” Wu admitted, sounding a bit enthusiastic. When he remained in Sean’s office even though his business in there was finished, Sean looked up to find the sargent watching him, a glint in the brown eyes that he couldn’t define. He breathed, evidently coming back to his sense, and then said, “Well, I’m gonna go.” He pointed as he left, closing the door behind him.

 

Wondering what the hell that was about, Sean’s hand moved to pick up his phone. He stopped himself from dialing Nick’s number, but barely. Just because he and Nick were involved - in some form or another - that didn’t mean that he needed to, or had the right to - at least in Nick’s mind - check up on him. To be fair that wasn’t what he’d planned on doing, but that was how he would have had to play it off so that no one got suspicious and so he’d refrained. If Nick felt well enough to take a case, he was fine and Sean didn’t need to needlessly worry himself over it.

 

Even so, annoyance at not being kept informed spiked through him and he felt himself communicate that through the bond, wondering if Nick would even feel it. He knew that Nick felt it when they were close, but he wasn’t sure if the Grimm would be able to sense it over a longer distance. He’d told Nick that he would but he honestly hadn’t been sure as the theory hadn’t been tested in quite some time.

 

He smiled, this time the twist of his lips reaching to both corners of his mouth rather than just the one, when he felt annoyance tinged with indignance and the equivalent of an eye roll charge through the bond in response. Evidently Nick didn’t like being checked up on, given the indignant note. Judging by the annoyance, he also didn’t like how easily and quickly he responded. In time, Sean would tell him that he can train to interpret the signals as well as his impulses to obey them.

 

For now, Sean liked how immediately Nick reacted and how easy it was to sway the Grimm.

 

**oOo**

 

Nick stared down at the body of Mavis Kerfield, balancing on his crutches as he tried to stay out of the evidence. Normally he didn’t bother trying not to contaminate the crime scene because he knew how to avoid doing so but he felt a bit clumsier than normal with the brace on his knee and the accompanying crutches and so he was doing his best to be careful.

 

“What the heck happened here?” Hank asked as he wandered around the perimeter of the shattered glass.

 

Nick stood upright, semi-pushing himself out of the leaning-stance on the crutches and began to follow Hank around the circle. Despite his best intentions, glass crunched under his boot and every so often he felt one crutch or the other go off balance as they stepped on glass.

 

After having looked at all he could on the main floor, Nick started up the stairs towards the second floor.

 

“Careful,” Hank bid once he recognized what Nick was doing.

 

Nick ignored him of course, and made it up the stairs with relative ease. He looked at the broken glass which littered the hall and the small bits of blood that smeared some of it. He was just about to say something when a note of annoyance - with a hint of concern - screeched at him through the bond. Though he knew what it was, he wasn’t entirely sure why. Even so, he felt a bit of indignation swing through him at the fact that Sean was, essentially, checking up on him. It wasn’t like he was a child that needed constant adult supervision, after all. As he felt those feelings be translated through the bond, he also felt his annoyance at how the bond seemed to sway him grow.

 

“Even more glass up here,” Nick called so that Hank, who was slowly coming up the stairs, could hear. “Somebody broke everything.”

 

“Why would you break all the glass?” Hank asked as he joined Nick halfway down the hall nearby a mirror.

 

“Well, to make it dark,” Nick automatically responded, voicing his first thought.

 

“Then why break the mirror?” Hank countered, making Nick pause since he had a point.

 

Then a thought occurred to him. “You know, I didn’t see any cuts on her feet so she didn’t come through this.”

 

“Meaning she fell before it broke,” Hank guessed.

 

“Or as it was breaking,” Nick countered, thinking that was more than likely the right scenario.

 

As they had nothing else to go on and Nick was beginning to feel the familiar throb in his knee, he slightly pivoted as he suggested, “Let’s go talk to the daughters.”

 

**oOo**

 

Hank watched as his partner sluggishly made his way to the Charger. He hadn’t been exactly thrilled when Nick had volunteered them for this case but, like Nick, he wasn’t exactly keen on remaining behind a desk or investigating a homicide without Nick, he’d gone along, figuring that he could easily keep an eye on the injured man and make him sit down when the need arose. As it turned out, he hadn’t needed to worry. After having climbed the stairs and made some observations in the hall, Nick had suggested that they go and speak to the daughters, one of whom found the body, and in the process had sat down on his own, apologizing to the daughters for needing to do so. The eldest had looked annoyed but the youngest had been sympathetic - albeit absently so - and had begged him not to worry about.

 

With that out of the way, Hank was able to pay attention to the interrogation - such an ugly word for a basic process - and to the answers that were given. Nothing much was to be gleaned from the two women who hadn’t been in the house at the time. The only thing they could give was that they should talk to their step-brother-in-law Arthur Jarvis. They’d done that in record time and were now heading back to the precinct. Well, they will be once Nick climbs into the dang car.

 

Normally Hank wouldn’t think it fair to try and rush an injured man but since Nick had stubbornly refused to allow Hank to help him, he didn’t have a problem with it. He kept a close watch as the Grimm tossed his crutches into the backseat and then limp-hopped to the front passenger seat and gingerly lowered himself in.

 

“‘bout time,” Hank griped as he started the Dodge and drove away.

 

“The next time you’re on crutches, I’ll remember to hurry you,” Nick griped, making Hank smile. His eyes traveled to his right to check on his partner, making sure that the man was mostly alright. His head was leaning against the headrest and his eyes were closed but otherwise he looked fine. Not in pain at least, though he doubted that were the case.

 

“How you doin’?” he chanced asking, doubting very much that Nick would give him an honest answer.

 

“I’m dandy, how are you?” Nick retorted with the usual level of sarcasm one got with him when he was hurting or sick.

 

“You should have stayed at the precinct,” Hank returned with a snort. When they’d gotten in the car to head over to the crime scene, he’d tried, in vain, to convince Nick of that and so he had no qualms about reminding his partner of the fact.

 

“I seem to remember saying something to that back when a certain criminal was after everyone who had put him in jail,” Nick quipped. “And I remember you leading said criminal to a quarry to handle him by yourself rather than letting the Captain help and getting yourself beat up in the process.”

 

“I seem to remember you saying that you would have felt better if I’d stayed at the precinct whereas I specifically told you to stay at the precinct,” Hank corrected. “Fine distinction.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick half-heartedly answered, apparently no longer having the energy to keep up the banter.

 

The rest of the ride passed in silence as neither man knew what to say. Hank was happy to let the quiet linger, especially when he heard Nick’s even breathing. Taking a quick look, Hank noticed Nick wasn’t asleep but he was relaxed, which was something of a miracle given what had been happening lately. Refraining from asking if Nick was alright again, or asking if he needed any help, Hank pulled into the police underground and parked.

 

He got out and - rather impatiently - waited for Nick to join him before he headed to the elevator and up to the homicide division’s floor. The Captain sat in his office but Hank saw his eyes flicker upwards at Nick’s entrance and follow the Grimm until he sat down at his desk. A brief expression crossed the Captain’s face but since Hank hadn’t seen it often, he didn’t know what it meant.

 

While he and Nick got to work on their case, Hank puzzled over the Captain’s expression. It took a while but Hank eventually did figure out what it meant and he smiled at it. The Captain had read something in Nick’s posture that he hadn’t liked and he was concerned. Only, since the Captain didn’t have a legitimate reason for calling Nick into his office, so that he could inquire after Nick’s health, he hadn’t and now, if Hank had to guess, he was staring at Nick like a hawk does its prey.

 

To his left, Nick snorted at nothing and it drew Hank’s notice. He raised an eyebrow at his partner, asking what that was all about and Nick shook his head, telling Hank that he’d explain later.

 

Fair enough. They were at work, after all. It wasn’t exactly the best place to discuss Grimm stuff. But with his curiosity piqued, Hank had trouble focusing on work and so he spent the rest of the afternoon dilly-dally-ing until they could leave.

 

“You up for a pizza?” he asked as they began walking out the door.

 

Nick was distracted and not really paying attention. He stopped mid-stride and stared into the Captain’s office. So, Hank tried again.

 

“Nick,” he called, making sure that he had the younger man’s attention this time.

 

“Yeah,” Nick said, now focusing on Hank but still seeming distracted.

 

“I said, are you up for a pizza?”

 

“Yeah,” Nick answered in that tone that he used when he wasn’t really paying attention. “Yeah, my place in an hour?”

 

“Alright,” Hank answered, puzzled as to how Nick was going to get home and why it was going to take him an hour to get there. “See you then.”

 

“Yeah,” Nick said, his gaze once again on the Captain’s office. “See you.”

 

Hank watched his partner head into the Captain’s office and sit down. He waited for a few minutes, watching Nick’s body language to determine that things were okay, and then he left, looking forward to pizza and explanations.

 

**oOo**

 

Sean watched Nick as he crutched his way into the office and then gingerly sat down. He didn’t miss Hank near the entrance/exit, watching his partner carefully and nor did he mind the protectiveness that he was showing in doing so. It was good to know that Nick had other people looking out for him; especially since the man seemed incapable of doing so himself. If Hank increased in his care or tried to insert his dominance as Nick’s best friend over Sean then there would be a problem but until then, Sean left it be.

 

The lingering stench of Nick’s pain hung thickly in the air. Sean could tell that it was dissipating but for his own comfort, it wasn’t fast enough. It would have been better for Nick to stay home for a little while longer, particularly if he was going to insist on doing all his normal duties but while on crutches. However, attempting to convince Nick of that was a lesson in futility such as Sean had never experienced before. It had been a battle of wills and dominance - both of which Nick had won simply because Sean hadn’t been willing to continue the argument any longer.

 

“For the record,” Nick said, starting a conversation that Sean knew he wanted to have but didn’t know how to start. Granted, from those three words this wasn’t the _precise_ conversation he had been planning on but at this point, any conversation would suffice. “I don’t appreciate you using this newfound,” he paused while trying to think of a word to describe what he was thinking, “ability to check up on me while we’re at work.”

 

Sean smirked, finding Nick’s anger just a little bit adorable. It was cute that the Grimm thought he could put Sean in his proper place. Then again, in this relationship, maybe he and Nick were more evenly matched than he had given them credit for. Nick may not be his equal in some ways - his entire lack of ruthlessness, for example - but in others, he could challenge Sean and most likely win. Not physically, of course, no, Sean would always be stronger than him in that respect. But Nick was more than capable of challenging him when it came to stubbornness and morals. Nick had no trouble standing up for what he believed in and he had no qualms about speaking his mind no matter who heard him.

 

“My apologies,” Sean offered, if only to appease his mate. He wasn’t sorry in the least for checking up on the Grimm but it never hurt to let the man think that he was. “I was merely wanting to know if you were alright.”

 

“I thought you would have known if I wasn’t,” Nick quipped, folding his arms over his chest and relaxing into the chair, laying his injured leg out while the other tucked itself under the chair. He smirked, clearly believing that he had the upper hand.

 

Sean sat forward, leaning his arms on the top of his desk and folding his hands together. “In cases where the bond hasn’t had a chance to fully be explored, that is not the case. It’s true that as our bond grows stronger, we will be able to, essentially, communicate through the connection, for the moment, we can do little more than send bits of emotion through it.”

 

At this, Nick furrowed his brow in an expression of confusion but he remained silent. Sean waited for him to speak his mind but it appeared the man wanted to wade through his own thoughts in privacy first and then express them to Sean. Fair enough. He was allowed privacy and a chance to digest whatever it was he was having trouble swallowing.

 

Taking advantage of the quiet, Sean allowed his mind to focus on the bond to see what he could get through it. When he received nothing but white noise, he smiled. He doubted that Nick was doing it intentionally but he was blocking Sean out of his mind and emotions. At any rate it wasn’t important. With Nick in the room all he had to do was inhale and he’d be able to tell what Nick was feeling on the surface. He didn’t even have to go that far to know that Nick was in pain - albeit only slightly now - but other than that there was a smell he couldn’t identify, leaving him puzzled.

 

 _Perhaps,_ he thought, _that was the point._

It made sense in an odd way. Nick’s confusion on whatever it was he was thinking about was manifesting into a smell that left Sean unable to identify it because it was confusion itself.

 

As though coming back to reality, Nick inhaled and semi-shook his head, clearing whatever thoughts from his mind and focusing on Sean once again.

 

“Well, no matter the reason, can you try not to do it at work? It’s distracting.” Nick didn’t sound half as firm as Sean knew he’d wanted to be and it made Sean curious as to the reason. Something wafted through his mind, purring like a content cat. Nick obviously, on some level, liked that Sean had been concerned about him, but he wasn’t willing to let that show.

 

“Fair enough,” Sean granted, knowing that Nick did have a point. If Sean were to continue doing that while Nick was unprepared or unable to block it out, he could get Nick hurt or killed. Better to leave it until they both could communicate more strongly. He leaned back in his chair and gave his partner a smile. “What are your plans for the night?”

 

“I think Hank wanted to grab a pizza, actually,” Nick said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder where Hank had been ten minutes earlier. Again, his brows furrowed as though he couldn’t comprehend why his friend wanted to do a dinner after having been with him at work all day. Clearly he suspected ulterior motives from Hank, he just couldn’t tell what they were.

 

Sean smiled. “He wants to make sure that I’m not taking advantage of you,” he filled in, unsure if Nick would have gotten there on his own.

 

“I thought I’d already cleared that up,” Nick blankly replied.

 

“We did for you friends the Blutbad and the Fuchsbau, but not for Hank.”

 

“You know,” Nick quipped, gingerly leveraging himself out of the chair and onto the crutches. “If you’re going to rule a city, you might want to get to know your constituent's names.”

 

Sean stood, getting the door for Nick though the glare the Grimm gave him told him that he needn’t have bothered.

 

“I’ll work on that,” he promised with a dry smile. Truthfully he didn’t see the need to learn anyone’s names when they were of little importance for him. But for Nick, he would at least try and learn these two.

 

“Yeah, you do that,” Nick returned, hinting that he knew full well what Sean was really thinking. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Sean nodded. “Oh, and Nick?” he called before the man had gotten too far into the office. Nick turned around to look at him, curiosity in his raised eyebrows. “Try and convince Hank that I’m not the threat he thinks I am.”

 

Nick’s expression was unreadable for a moment and then he smiled. “Will do,” he promised and then grabbed Wu before walking out.

 

Sean sighed, feeling the tension of the past week settle into his shoulders. What he needed right now, no, what he wanted right now, was nothing more than to hunt. The regnant was practically gnawing at the bars that held it in check, straining to be let free.

 

Well, now that the danger to Nick had, somewhat, passed and the Grimm himself was busy, Sean didn’t see the harm in preoccupying himself for a few hours before he went to sleep. Snapping his laptop closed, Sean stood up, gathered his things and went out the door in one fluid motion. The night would be cold, especially in the mountains, but in his dragon-like form, he would be alright. With eyes the color of deep red, he climbed into his Suburban and headed for the forests.

 

The hunt was on.

 

**TBC**

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter XXVI**

 

Hank drove home late that night, his mind trying to wrap itself around all that Nick had told him.

 

They had met at Nick's house at the appointed time with Hank carrying the pizza - rat free this time - and the beer. He'd counted on the beer just being for him but apparently Nick no longer used his pain medication and so he'd taken some for himself. After having grabbed some plates and sliding the pizza onto the coffee table, Hank and Nick had sat down, relaxing into their seats and getting comfortable.

 

Nick hadn't wasted any time in delving into explanation. According to him the captain had filled him in on what it was that Hank had wanted to know and Nick hadn't seen any point in tip-toeing around the topic.

 

The problem was that, judging from how vaguely Nick had explained the bond that he now shared with the captain, Nick barely understood how the entire thing worked himself. And that bothered Hank. But going to the captain for answers was out of the question. Hank had seen the way the man had watched him as Hank had watched Nick in his office. It hadn't been a friendly stare. In fact, it had been bordering on hostile. The last thing that Hank wanted was for his boss to think that he was overstepping boundaries. Even so, both he and Nick needed to know more about what was going on.

 

Pulling into his driveway, Hank pulled out his phone.

 

“Hey, Monroe,” he greeted once the man had picked up. “Hey, you and Rosalee got a minute?”

 

oOo

 

Rosalee greeted Hank and Monroe with a smile and a pot of coffee. The last thing that she had expected was to get a call from Monroe saying that Hank had called him and wanted their help. What he wanted their help with, she had no idea and Monroe didn’t either. They both guessed that it had to do with Nick and from there they went a step further and guessed that it had to do with what was going on between the royal and the Grimm.

 

“Hey guys, come on in,” she said as she opened the door and then locked it behind them. Technically the shop was closed so there shouldn’t be anyone wanting to come in but when it comes to wesen emergencies, you never knew what could happen.

 

“Thanks,” Hank said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Sorry to bother you guys so late.”

 

“It’s not that late,” Monroe answered at the same time that she said, “It’s no problem.”

 

The pair shared a look that held a small smile. After letting it linger a little longer, Rosalee turned back to Hank and asked, “So, what’s goin on?”

 

“What do you guys know about this bond that’s developed between Nick and the captain?”

 

Yep, that was pretty much what they had expected. Even so, how do you explain something like that to someone like Hank?

 

Offering a small smile and gesturing towards the back room, Rosalee suggested, “Let’s go in back and Monroe and I will try to explain what we can.”

 

oOo

 

By the time Friday rolled around, Nick was thoroughly annoyed with the crutches. They were cumbersome to say the least and all Nick wanted to do was throw them out the window. He really didn’t need them anymore, anyways. But Sean and Hank, both, had threatened him in one way or another - Sean with desk duty and paperwork, Hank with bodily harm - if he stopped without a doctor’s approval and so here he was; stuck with the damn things attached to his sides.

 

Where the hell was he going to find a doctor who wouldn’t demand a bunch of tests or question how he’d healed so fast? Both his partner and his boss had specifically said that Rosalee didn’t count so he was stuck sitting at his desk, doing his absolute best to try and figure out how to play his injury off as seeming worse than it had been to a new doctor. So far it wasn’t going well.

 

“Hey, Nick,” Wu called to him as he obligingly came to Nick’s desk to talk to him. “Hey, you got anything new on the Kerfield murder?”

 

“Uh, no,” Nick said, looking around for support from Hank who wasn’t actually there. He looked up at Wu with a furrowed brow, confused. “But you already knew that,” he said, drawing his words out to show that he knew something was up with the sergeant, although he didn’t know what. “So, what is it you really want to know?”

 

Wu hesitated for a moment, looking around as though afraid he would be spotted or heard. After making sure that the proverbial coast was clear, he sat down in Hank’s chair and then scooted it closer to Nick’s desk. Nick sat up and scooted his chair closer to his desk as well so that he could hear Wu.

 

“Do you know what’s going on with the Captain?” the sergeant asked, his eyes never once focusing on Nick despite how concentrated his tone was. They actually seemed to be watching Sean in his office as he spoke.

 

Nick sat back, casting a wayward look over his shoulder at Sean in his office before he looked back at Wu, his attention solely on the other man, all while doing his best to look nonchalant. He wasn’t blind to the reasons behind Wu asking him specifically about the captain. He knew that Wu had to suspect something, if not more, and he didn’t want to give the man any cannon fodder for the betting ring that Nick knew was circulating through all departments of the precinct.

 

“No, why?” he asked, grabbing a file on his current murder case to appear relaxed and working. He was still stumped on what could have caused this. Because, yes, he had no doubt that the murder was wesen; he just didn’t know what kind. Having being given rides home, he couldn’t necessarily have one of the uni’s take him to Aunt Marie’s trailer to find out and he wasn’t about to ask Hank either. He kind of liked the trailer as his own private place and while he’d had Monroe there on a few occasions, the blutbad hadn’t been intrusive and hadn’t brought the trailer up in conversation unless Nick had brought it up first. It was like he knew that Nick believed it to be his sanctuary and he didn’t want to tresspass on it.

 

Suspicion briefly flitted across Wu’s face but he was careful not to betray it. Instead he leaned back, looking to all the world relaxed and started to idly play with a pen that Hank had abandoned at the last minute. The ballpoint pen spun in a dizzying circle as Wu twirled it around, making sure all the while that it never went out of control. It drew Nick’s attention from the file in his hands to the spinning object and kept him entranced. Nick had a brief moment of annoyance from being distracted but soon his mind began to wander and he lost hold of his irritation.

 

“No reason,” the sergeant said. “I just thought you might know why he’s been in such a foul mood.”

 

As a matter of fact Nick did know why the captain was grumpy. All the entire week, Sean had been trying to grab his attention via the bond. He'd sent signals of concern and amusement in the beginning then they turned to annoyance and frustration when Nick refused to respond. He hadn’t exactly figured out how to block those signals from coming in at most inopportune times but he’d gotten better at hiding his reactions to them and had somewhat figured out how not to send something back. Between the case, Hank’s concern over the bond Nick shared with the captain, and Kylie, Nick hadn’t really had much time to consider furthering his relationship with his boss. In fact, he hadn’t really talked to him since Monday when Nick had been in his office.

 

But as Nick wasn’t about to tell Wu all that, he gave a smile and shrugged. “Sorry,” he said, “I can’t help ya.”

 

Monroe! The name flashed in his brain like lightning and suddenly Nick wondered why it had taken him so long to think of the solution. Technically it was two solutions but the main one he was focusing on was getting the blutbad’s help with the case.

 

He sat up so quickly that his head swirled a little. He briefly wondered when he’d eaten last but the thought had barely finished before he’d wiped it away. He hastily gathered up his crutches and was out of his chair faster than he probably should have been able to be, and then he was out the door without another word to Wu, who was probably still sitting at Hank’s desk.

 

He stopped when he realized that he couldn’t just fly out like he normally would have. Pivoting he went back to Wu who had a rather dumbfounded look on his face.

 

“Can you take me home?” he asked, hating how ridiculous the question sounded.

 

“Uh, sure, did you forget something?”

 

“No,” Nick answered, following Wu as they both exited the floor and went down to the parking garage. “Well, sort of. I just remembered that I said I’d follow up on some leads for the case.” Well, at least that wasn’t a total lie. “But my knee’s been hurting a lot today, so I figured I’d just do it at home.” Okay, so that was a lie.

 

Judging from the expression that Wu cast sideways at him as they drove out of the underground, the sergeant knew that he was lying to some degree but he’d never been bold enough to call any of them out and so he kept his skepticism to himself.

 

Getting to Nick’s house from the precinct was a rather quick drive. The traffic was light during midday and Wu had had no trouble weaving through what little there was. Before long, he pulled up to the curb outside Nick’s front door and parked the car.

 

“You don’t need to get out,” Nick assured the sergeant when he noticed the other man unbuckling his seatbelt. He opened the door and awkwardly got his crutches out of the front seat. “I can manage from here.”

 

“Are you sure? The sidewalk looks slick.”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nick answered, now working on getting himself out of the car.

 

“Do you want me to tell the Captain?”

 

Nick froze for a minute. He should say yes since saying that he’d let the captain know would only put fire under the slow-burning pot of suspicions that Wu already had cooking. But telling him the lie that Nick had told Wu would make him worry and no doubt express that worry over the bond - something which Nick did not want to be bothered with today. For a second Nick was torn. Then he realized that to avoid further suspicion, there was only one option he could take.

 

“Yeah,” he said, slowly getting himself standing. He leaned down so that he could look into the warm car. The chill that had danced around Portland had fully settled into damp frigidity with the clouds above promising more snow. Nick shivered with the temperature change, enjoying the blast of heat that slammed into his face. “Thanks for the ride, Wu.”

 

“Anytime, Nick,” the sergeant said. He sounded a little annoyed at being used for a taxi service but he also sounded as though he’d just woken up from a dream and wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in the car at Nick’s house. The complete 360 that Nick had done had evidently left him feeling dazed. Good. It was better for him to wonder what the hell had just happened; it left little room for him to speculate whether or not Nick was seeing the captain and if he was, then for how long.

 

Nick waited for Wu’s car to disappear from sight before he hastily started climbing the walkway to his front door. Wu had been right - it was slippery but Nick made to the porch in record time. As he slid his key into the door, he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket.

 

Kylie greeted him in the foyer, her tail wagging as she patiently sat, waiting for him to come to her. Nick wasn’t exactly sure where she’d learned to do that because he sure as hell hadn’t taught it to her. All he knew was that, starting Monday night, every night he had come home, there she was, sitting and waiting for him to get closer to her so she could give him a welcome home lick.

 

Before shutting the door, he stepped out of the way and held it open for her. “Go on,” he told her, nudging his head towards the yard outside. She looked up at him, cocked her head to the side and then sprinted out to do her business.

 

Dialing Monroe’s number, Nick abandoned his crutches at the doorway and heavily limped over to the living room, easing himself onto the couch once he’d gotten there.

 

“Yello,” Monroe greeted, sounding busy. In fact, Nick knew he was busy because he hadn’t answered Nick’s phone call like he normally does, meaning that he hadn’t actually looked to see who was calling before he’d picked up.

 

“Hey, it’s Nick.”

 

“Oh, hey, what’s up?” There was some muffled sounds and then another, more distinct, sound of him dropping a tool. Yep, definitely busy.

 

Feeling bad for bothering the blutbad when he was working, Nick hesitated in truthfully answering his question. He was tempted to lie and get off the phone as quickly as possible. But the truth of the matter was that the search for the murderous wesen would go a lot faster with Monroe there.

 

“Can you meet me at the trailer?” he asked, lowering his voice out of sheer habit rather than need.

 

The sound of Kylie’s nails on the floor told Nick that she’d come back in and he got up to go close the door so the cold air wouldn't get in. He’d just gotten to his feet when he heard the door close on its own and then saw the lab happily trotting into the room to sit by his feet.

 

Was it normal for dogs to be able to close doors?

 

“Uh, yeah, man, just give me about half an hour and I’m there.”

 

Ah, so Monroe was just finishing up - well that made Nick feel a bit better.

 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

 

“Wait, don’t you need a ride or somethin?”

 

Figuring today was as good a day as any to push his luck, Nick said, “No, man, I’m good. I’ll meet you there,” and hung up before the blutbad could argue any longer.

 

Kylie gave a rather reproachful bark, making Nick raise his eyebrows in surprise.

 

“What, you close doors and are a mother-hen too?”

 

She didn’t back down and this time her tail wasn’t thumping either. In fact, she was staring at him rather intently, as though expecting him to behave. Nick scoffed and reached out to give her a quick pet on the head. He didn’t know why he was talking to her like she understood him. Not only did dogs not speak English, but they couldn’t speak at all.

 

“Right, well, I’d better go dress warmer,” he said, easing himself to his feet and heavily limping towards the stairs.

 

Kylie barked at him again, making him turn to look at her. She was once again sitting in the foyer but when he looked at her, she looked at the crutches he’d abandoned and then looked back at him. It was though she was telling him to use the damn things. Shaking his head to hopefully clear the crazy out of it, Nick turned back around and slowly made his way to his bedroom.

 

What was his life coming to when he thought that dogs could not only talk but give demands and reproaches?

 

oOo

 

Monroe shivered as he climbed out of his Beetle. Even with his blutbad internal heating, he found it cold. Winter had definitely settled into Portland, bringing with it more snow and more dampness. He didn't mind either as he liked snow; in a way it was romantic in its perceived purity. He was actually beginning to plan a little something for Rosalee and him when they next went out. Of course, he'd actually have to ask her out again for that to work.

 

Aunt Marie's trailer - also known as The Trailer - was dirty. Its time having been spent in the wide array of Portland's weather hadn't done it any favors in that respect. It looked run down and worth nothing - both of which were good things since Nick didn't really need anyone wanting to steal the thing. For a moment Monroe simply stood in front of the trailer, staring at it in awe. He still couldn't believe that he'd been allowed inside and on more than one occasion. As he'd told Nick, it was like being inside a Grimm museum; it was full of Grimm history and books and old antidotes that probably still worked today. Monroe loved history. He believed that the more you learned about history the better prepared you were for the future.

 

The door to the trailer opened before he had a chance to reach the handle and Nick's dark hair poked out of the doorway. Monroe instantly noticed that the Grimm wasn't using his crutches which he wasn't sure was a good or bad thing. Still, he wasn't Nick's mother - thank God for that - and so he said nothing.

 

"You going to come in or you going to stand out there all day?" Nick asked, stepping back to let Monroe in.

 

"Well, I guess someone's grouchy," Monroe retorted, following the man inside the trailer and slamming the door shut behind him.

 

"Yeah, well, forced desk duty can do that to a person," the Grimm retorted as he went to sit down behind the simple yet useful desk. He seemed to be moving pretty good considering how badly he'd been hurt. And although it was obvious that Nick couldn't put his full weight on the leg yet, Monroe couldn't deny that the Grimm probably didn't need to use crutches either.

 

"Looks like you'll be getting off it sooner than you think," Monroe observed as he closed the door and sat in an abandoned chair. He pulled an old, worn book into his lap and lazily opened it. "I'm assuming I'm here for research?"

 

"Sort of. Do you know of a wesen that can shatter all glass in the vicinity?"

 

Monroe searched his memory but shook his head when he came up blank. "I got nothin."

 

"Then yes," Nick said in a sigh, "you're here for research."

 

oOo

 

Nick left the trailer with the smallest of smiles on his face. Not only did he have a way of dealing with the murcielago BUT he also had the name of a legitimate doctor who also happened to be a wesen. Monroe had been a bit uneasy about sending Nick to see her but he also said that if anyone could care for a Grimm, it was here.

 

Once he was out, he locked the door and climbed into his Toyota. After making sure those doors were locked (you could never be too careful if you were a Grimm), he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the doctor's number. In order for him to stop the attacks he had to be officially off desk duty and there was only one way that was going to happen.

 

"You have reached the office of Doctor Marcie Kisic. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and someone will get back to as soon as is possible. If this is a medical emergency, please hang up and dial 911. Thank you."

 

"Hi. My name is Detective Nick Burkhardt. I'm friends with Monroe, who assures me that you are the best. I am in need of medical clearance to get back to work and was told you could help me. If you could please give me a call back, my number is 555-544-2632*. Thanks. Bye."

 

With that being done, Nick tossed his phone into the cup holder and turned his truck on. He'd almost gotten home when his phone had rung.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Is this Detective Burkhardt?"

 

"Yes it is."

 

"Hi, my name is Doctor Kisic. You called a little bit ago."

 

The voice was friendly and kind, surprising Nick with the youth he heard in it. She couldn't be more than 25; 30 at the most. How did she have her own practice already?

 

"Yes," Nick said, not doing so well at hiding his enthusiasm. "Thanks for getting back to me so quickly."

 

"Generally for medical clearance to return to work, people like a prompt response," the doctor reasoned with what sounded like a smile in her voice. "I've talked to Monroe and he's explained your..dilemma. I am free any time after three o'clock. Will that do?"

 

So, she cleared her schedule to make sure that Nick didn't scare any of her patients away, huh? Fair enough. It wouldn't do for him to come out to a room full of wesen and have them all woge and then either try and kill him or run for their lives, screaming at the top of their lungs.

 

"Sounds perfect," he said, biting back the brief spark of anger he felt towards how quickly other wesen judged him. It was a bitter pill he had to take but as the days wore on, Nick was slowly finding it easier to swallow. That didn't mean that it didn't get stuck in his throat every now and then.

 

"Great, I'll see you then," she answered, sounding pleased. "Oh, and Detective? Please leave all weapons at home. There'll be no one here who needs to lose their heads."

 

Nick gave an uncomfortable chuckle. He couldn't tell if she was joking or threatening him. For all he knew, it was both. "I'll do my best," he promised, though he knew he'd be bringing his gun just in case.

 

The phone call ended and Nick pulled into the driveway and up to the shed out back. He'd never really been one to park here but since it was just him living here now, he figured he might as well start. Besides, the distance from the driveway was closer than the street which saved him from having to walk too far on his weakened knee.

 

At the back door, Kylie barked once, signaling that she knew he was there, and then went quiet. He opened it to find her once again sitting and patiently waiting for him to enter. How anyone could have abandoned this dog was beyond him. She fidgeted as though she wanted to move and greet him but then she sat still again.

 

Nick limped over to her and gave her ears a scratch. He checked his phone to see how much time he had before he had to be at his appointment and then grabbed a bottle of water and sat on the couch. He had a couple of hours before he needed to meet Monroe's doctor friend. He might as well enjoy the quiet while he could.

 

He had just begun to nod off, cold water still in his hands, when there was a knock at the front door. Kylie, who no doubt had been aware of the guest before he had, didn't even bark. Instead, she went over to the entryway and sat down, much like she did for Nick. That alone told him who it was at his door. Had he been given enough time, however, Nick still would have known. The feeling of familiarity he felt through the bond hummed in the back of his mind. It was almost as though a part of him was recognizing his other half without his consent.

 

"I'm assuming that since the dog isn't growling, I can come in," Sean said as he closed the door behind him.

 

Kylie sniffed at him as though dismissing him and came back into the living room to sit by Nick's side once more. Instead of relaxing onto the floor, she stood erect, watching Sean as he came closer. It appeared the dog only trusted the regnant to a certain point, and him being close to Nick wasn't it. Her upper lip curled back as Sean stepped close enough to Nick to touch him and a low growl rumbled through her chest. Sean placidly eyed Kylie with a growl of his own echoing hers. Nick half expected Kylie to back down then, but she didn't. Her hackles rose as she stepped forward as though to pounce. Her teeth were now bared and the growl was no longer a rumble but a warning.

 

"Impressive," Sean remarked with a slight eyebrow raise. "Apparently she believes I'm encroaching on her territory."

 

"Well this is her house," Nick replied offhandedly. His mind felt sluggish and his energy felt nonexistent. He didn't know where the sudden fatigue came from but right now it was threatening to drag him down to oblivion.

 

"It's not the house," Sean corrected.

 

Nick looked down at Kylie then up at Sean. "What? Me?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, it made sense. He knew that dogs were possessive of their owners, some to the point of violence, he just never thought one would be about him. Of course, that was probably because he didn't think he'd ever own a dog. He sighed. "Well that could make things difficult."

 

"Not if you were to correct her," Sean reasoned. There was an undercurrent to his tone that suggested he was curious as to why Nick hadn't done that yet but Nick knew that the stoic leader wouldn't care to actually voice such thoughts. "As you're not only hers but her pack leader, she would respect your authority."

 

Did he? Did Nick want to correct Kylie? Or did he like the protection that she offered against Sean?

 

The idea was ridiculous, honestly. Nick craved Sean; no doubt just as much as Sean craved him. But was it his body that craved Sean or his whole being? Evidently a small part of him was still fighting against this whole situation but Nick couldn't figure out why. He'd made the choice to give in, hadn't he? He'd decided that, on some level at least, he wanted Sean. Not necessarily for a mate, granted, but he was sure that it wouldn't be long until that was true too.

 

So why was he, essentially, hiding behind a dog?

 

He scares you, a voice at the back of his mind whispered.

 

Indignation instantly swelled up within him as his pride rebelled against the idea. Nick was immediately fighting against the suggestion. There was no way he, Nick Burkhardt, Grimm of Portland, was afraid of his boss!

 

But then, he amended, Sean wasn't merely his boss, now was he? He was a wesen - a regnant which, to Nick's understanding, is a very powerful creature which could very well kill him if it wanted to. Not to mention that he was also royalty in the wesen world which meant that he wielded quite a lot of power from that position alone.

 

Yeah, thought Nick, I have good reason to fear him.

 

Music, soft, gentle and cooing sang through Nick's head, effectively breaking up his thoughts. It scattered them like one would a broken up puzzle and then swept them away to the far reaches of his mind so that Nick no longer felt the doubts they had brought up. The feeling within the music told him that he didn't need to fear Sean; that the regnant would do nothing to hurt Nick and would kill any who tried.

 

"I can take care of myself, you know," he said, annoyed that Sean had been able to tell what he was thinking and felt the need to protect him because of it. There was no way in hell that Nick was going to come through this relationship being the weaker of the two. If anything, they were evenly matched and he wanted Sean to know that too.

 

Sean's expression never changed (and neither did the tone in the bond) but his tone was just shy of a wry laugh. "Nick, from day one you've always had someone covering your back whether you knew it or not. The blutbad certainly helped but at times there were others watching out for you."

 

"Okay, moving past the part where you felt that you had a right to have me watched, I have been taking care of myself for quite some time." Feeling the need to do something, Nick stood up to face Sean with as much strength as he could muster. Beside him Kylie shadowed him, albeit while remaining slightly in front of him. "I may be somewhat new to the Grimm thing," he admitted, knowing there was no denying it, "but before I was ever a Grimm, I was a cop. And while we may not be trained killers, we are taught how to take care of ourselves."

 

Kylie gave a bark after Nick had finished, making it sound like she seconded his opinion, and then proceeded to stare at Sean as though to dare him to challenge her. Technically her support, if that's what Nick would or could call it, somewhat diminished his point but whatever. She was a dog for heaven's sake. It's not like she actually understood a word they were saying.

 

The smile that formed on Sean's lips was not what Nick would ever refer to as friendly or feral. In fact, he would have actually called it mocking and it pissed him off to see it.

 

"We'll wait until you're healthy and then we'll test your theory, shall we?"

 

The teasing that came through Sean's challenging tone did nothing to undermine the sheer glee that shone through his hazel eyes at the prospect. Whether it was the idea of getting more physical in one way or another with Nick or the suggestion that he could then deal out some form of punishment on the Grimm, Nick couldn't tell and at the moment, he didn't care. He smirked back.

 

"See, that right there is why I don't correct her," he said in all seriousness which belied the smile on his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a doctor's appointment to get to. I trust you can let yourself out since you let yourself in."

 

Walking away, Nick made sure to grab his keys and wallet before walking out the back door. He didn't bother to check and make sure that Sean left; he already knew that he had.

 

TBC

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter XXVII**

 

Doctor Marcie Kisic sat in her private office, reviewing the notes she had written in one of her patients' files. She'd hurried him out of the office as quickly as she had been able to once she'd heard from Monroe's friend. She'd heard rumors about a new grimm in Portland, and more to the point that he didn't kill first ask questions later, but she hadn't wanted to take the risk with any of her patients just in case. She could take care of herself but her patients depended on her discretion as well as their health.

 

The bell attached to the front door rang and Marcie pushed the papers back into the file folder and slid it into her desk drawer, locking it before she got up. With respective caution she went into the waiting area and eyed her newest patient.

 

He was a fairly tall man, though not as tall as some. His dark hair fell down over his eyes, which when he looked at her she was pleased to discover were a shocking blue. And while she knew him for a grimm, she would never have pegged it on him from looking at him. Although, the word 'cop' was written in everything, including the gun at his hip and the badge on his belt, he didn't seem like the type to be a vicious killer.

 

"Detective Burkhardt?" she greeted, wanting to make sure that she got the name right.

 

He turned around, wincing as he did so, and smiled at her. It was a friendly smile, one, she supposed, meant to disarm her but she didn't fall for it. Still she returned it easily. "Doctor Kisic."

 

"Marcie, please," she said, never having been comfortable with the formal title no matter how hard she had had to work for it.

 

"Nick," he said in return.

 

"Of course, what can I do for you Nick?" She folded her arms in front of her, looking as unalarming and concerned as she could. Since the man was a complete stranger the latter was hard for her to fully accomplish but she tried for Monroe, whom she did know and whom she did care about a great deal; the wolf was like a brother to her in spite of their, let's say, racial differences.

 

"I need medical clearance and Monroe assured me that you were the best person for the job." He seemed hesitant to admit most of this. The flattery at the end was easy enough for him to get out but the part where he asked for help had clearly been hard for him to say.

 

"Don't you mean the best wesen?" she countered, joking slightly. "That is, after all, why you're here. Because I'm a wesen doctor."

 

He looked abashed, smiling slightly at the floor as he tried to hide his embarrassment. Clearly he'd taken her seriously and thought her offended. She rolled her eyes. "Relax, Nick, I'm kidding. The main reason any of my patients come to me is because they're wesen in one form or another and they need someone who can understand the nature of their bodies. Now, I know you're not wesen, per se, but you are certainly not human either, which means that you need someone like me who won't judge you for any strange occurrences, medical or otherwise."

 

"Right," he said, clearing his throat and swinging his arms back and forth, as though stretching his shoulders. "Well, uh, where do we start?"

 

"How about we start in the exam room where you can take off your pants so I can examine your knee?" She had gotten a copy of his medical records not half an hour ago and had had time to peruse them before he'd come over. Even if she hadn't, she had noticed the way he seemed to favor one leg over the other and given the type of shoes he wore, he wasn't likely to injure an ankle. "After that, I would like to do a physical so that I have a starting point for the next time you come into my office."

 

He smiled again, perhaps uncomfortable with her bluntness, and then motioned towards the back of the building with his hand. "Lead the way."

 

Since he hadn't a clue where he was going, she did just that. She led him down a small hallway, and then to the left where room one was empty and waiting. There weren't any windows and the room was large enough to fit two wesen parents and a child if need be. It was a perfect place for a confrontation should one occur.

 

"Take off your pants," she said, stepping into the room to pull out a gown, "and put this on. I'll come back in a few minutes to give you some privacy."

 

She didn't give him time to say anything, she just left, closing the door behind her. While he got undressed, she went and grabbed a notepad and the paper chart which she preferred to keep rather than the electronic ones that most hospitals and doctors prefer nowadays. After stuffing her stethoscope into her pocket and grabbing a pen, she went and knocked on the door. It was a courtesy, nothing more, as she suspected that he was waiting for her already.

 

As expected he was sitting on the bed/table with his legs dangling over the side, his left swinging more freely than his right. His head shot up when she came in, his eyes widened briefly in surprise or shock before settling again and his mouth closing with some visible effort. His chest heaved, showing that his heart was still beating fast, his body perhaps preparing the fight or flight response.

 

"Sorry," she said as she placed her things onto the counter and then pulled up the wheeled seat. She rolled herself over so that she was in front of his legs and began making observations as she talked. "I didn't meant to startle you."

 

"It's okay," he forgave. "I was just thinking."

 

His legs were wonderfully formed. The muscles were well defined and the joints quite beautiful within their own right. "What about?" she asked as she began to run her hands up and down each leg simultaneously, taking note of the differences she felt. The left was stronger than the right but that was to be expected. He winced when she got to the areas around his right knee and so she eased her grip while keeping it the same on the left. She still felt swelling on the right, but if the medical records were anything to go by, the injury should be far worse than it currently was.

 

"Just things," he brushed off. His breath hitched as she began a more in-depth study of his injured knee but otherwise he remained silent during the rest of the exam.

 

Once she was done, she pulled off her gloves, washed her hands, grabbed her notebook and then sat back down, this time in the chair that sat opposite the bed/table. Crossing one leg over the other, she placed the notepad on top so that she could write when she needed to.

 

"So, how did this happen?" she asked, wondering if he would actually tell her.

 

Nick laughed sardonically, more a wry chuckle full of bitterness, and sat back so that he wasn't leaning over quite so much. "My mother," he said, sounding sarcastically proud. When she said nothing, waiting for more information, he continued. "I was chasing her through the woods and when I caught up with her, we fought. She wanted to make sure that I didn't follow her."

 

"And is your mother a grimm as well?" Marcie asked as she made notations on the paper. Nothing was truly medically relevant yet but she also liked to understand her patients and so she wrote down what he'd told her. It was a little..odd that his own mother would do something like that to him; but then again, she didn't know grimm families; maybe they weren't particularly close? Some wesen families certainly weren't.

 

"Yes, and my aunt."

 

She was tempted to ask their names, curious as to whether she had heard of them but she decided against it. That information certainly wasn't relevant and she didn't want him thinking that she was attempting to also be his therapist, or being pushy.

 

"According to your file, your injury was pretty decent," she said, perusing the papers once again. "And yet it seems to be almost healed. Can you explain how that works? Is this a grimm thing?"

 

"Not that I know of," he answered, shaking his head no. "A friend of mine, Bud, gave me some sort of ointment a while ago and I've been using it every couple days or so. It seemed to help with pain relief the last time I'd used it and so I figured it couldn't hurt to use this time around." He paused as though thinking and then added, "I'm not even sure what's in it."

 

"Bud. The eisbiber?"

 

"Yeah, do you know him?"

 

"He's a patient of mine, yes," Marcie said. Actually, Bud was a great friend but she wasn't about to divulge that to a man she didn't know. "Did his wife give it to you?"

 

"Technically, Bud did but he said it was from his wife."

 

"Of course," she granted. Very few people who weren't eisbibers met Bud's wife. Either the woman was too afraid to meet others who weren't in her clan or her husband was for her. Which ever it was, it resulted in Bud being the spokesperson for the family. "I'm familiar with this ointment and while it does help speed recovery, it doesn't do it quite this fast."

 

Nick's brows furrowed and she could tell that she had his attention. "Meaning what?" he asked.

 

"I believe there's something in your physiology that is helping as well," she said, albeit a little hesitantly. She had never been one to say something as fact when she wasn't sure if it was or not. This was simply a hunch, but she was fairly certain that she was correct. Just not entirely. "I'm not sure what, yet, but if it's alright, I would like to take some blood to run some tests."

 

"Is that necessary?"

 

Good, she wasn't the only one that was wary of strangers. They both had good reason to be, given who they truly were and how they lived their lives. But if they were to undertake something like diving into his - potential - grimm attributes, there needed to be a small portion of trust between them. And that was something they both were going to have to work on.

 

"It wouldn't be much," she assured. "Just a vial, maybe two if you're willing."

 

"And where would this blood be going?"

 

"Nowhere. I have an undergrad in genetics as well as an MD."

 

"That's impressive," he granted in a dry tone. With a sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest, looking even more defensive than he sounded. The words 'for someone so young' hung on the air but he didn't say them. Then again, he didn't need to. She heard it all the same.

 

Marcie sat back, leaning against the back of the chair while trying to control the anger that she felt at his skepticism. "Do you know what kind of wesen I am?" she asked, placing her things on the counter to her right and mirroring his defensiveness.

 

"Does it matter?" he asked.

 

"Why because all wesen are, essentially, the same?" she countered with bitterness in her voice. It would be just like a grimm to think that.

 

"No," he answered, looking taken a back. "Because it's not relevant to you being able to do your job."

 

Huh. Didn't see that one coming.

 

"And in a way, you're right," she conceded. "And in a way, you're not." She paused, debating what she was about to do. "I'm going to show you something but I need you to promise me something."

 

"And what is that?" His tone suggested that he didn't really have a single intention of doing her a favor but that he was going to placate her until he found out what it was.

 

"Don't chop off my head." She gave him a smile to show that she was joking only a little.

 

He smirked at that, the expression making his face look more handsome and his eyes a little bluer. "No promises."

 

She smiled in return and then prepared for the change.

 

Most wesen woged. Which meant that their mask simply fell away and their true form came out. It was a simple process, one that mostly happened when the wesen was stressed by one thing or another. But there were a few who had the ability to change their form entirely and that took a bit more control if one didn't practice.

 

Marcie felt the change before she knew it to be happening. It was only little things but they were happening inside her rather than on the outside. Soon the world melted away and she no longer saw it through her regular honey brown eyes. But through focused yellow.

 

oOo

 

Nick sat on the table, watching his new doctor with trepidation. After returning his smile she seemed to go in a trance, blocking out the world around her, him included. Then her form melded into something else entirely. Replaced by the attractive yet cold-seeming woman was a panther the size of a motorcycle. The black fur was sleek and reflected the lights in the ceiling, its body well built and toned. Its yellow eyes studied him with such intensity that Nick found himself growing uneasy.

 

However, there was something in the way the animal simply stood there that told him that it wouldn't attack him unless he made a sudden move and so he remained still. His heart surely didn't but that was nothing he could control since his body was ready to fight for its life.

 

Being careful not to startle the animal, Nick took slow, easy breaths. Then, in one quick motion, the panther was gone and his doctor was once again before him. Thankfully clothes seemed to be part of the deal because, unlike Sean apparently, she didn't woge into a naked woman.

 

Nick gaped. He didn't know what to say or how to express what he was thinking.

 

"I'm a häijy," she said as she once again sat down, cool as a cucumber. "My kind are one of the select few that can change their form completely when they woge." She sniffed then quickly exhaled as though there had been a smell on the air that she hadn't wanted to taste. "Much like your regnant, I wager."

 

At that Nick grew wary. Resolve straightened his spine and cooled his eyes. He believed that she had smelled Sean on him but he wasn't about to confirm anything unless she had solid proof. Somehow it felt like betraying his boss - and mate, he reluctantly added - if he said anything. None of this was out of loyalty, per se. Fear was definitely prevalent as well.

 

It wasn't that he believed Sean would do anything to him, but he also wouldn't put it past him. During their meeting at the house, Nick had sensed danger and threat coming off the man and no matter how much he claimed to care about Nick, it was a bit hard to brush those feelings aside.

 

Across from him, his doctor smirked. It wasn't a warm smile but it wasn't a cold one either. More, sarcastic. "Don't worry," she said, relaxing a little, "I'm not foolish enough to attempt anything against a wesen like that. I just wanted to put it in terms that were a little bit more relatable."

 

"So you basically woge into a large panther?" he tried to clarify. If anything this would save him from a trip to the trailer.

 

"In its simplicity, yes," she said. "The specifics you can look up later if you're curious. My point in telling you all this is because I wanted to know if I could trust you."

 

"So you were testing me to see if I would, what, kill you? Because that's 'what grimms' do?" Nick couldn't stop the bitterness that had seeped into his voice. He was getting well and truly fed up with people, wesen, assuming that because he was a grimm, he was no different than his ancestors. He didn't think all wesen were alike so why couldn't they believe that all grimms weren't the same?

 

Instead of taking offense, she offered him a smile. It reminded him of the kind of smile you'd offer someone in kindred. Like she'd recognized something within him that she, herself, could identify with.

 

"No," she said, the smile still on her face. "Because if I'm asking you to trust me." She stopped to acknowledge the eyebrow raise that he'd given her and then she continued to explain, "Like regnants, haijy can live for centuries at a time. We do not have the typical lifespan that most humans do. I may look young, but I have been alive long enough to be your mother, if not your grandmother. Which means that my having a degree in genetics is not only plausible, it's true."

 

Which means, Nick reasoned, that she was qualified to take samples of and test his blood for markers of God only knows what.

 

"How would you be able to test it?" he asked, suddenly curious. "It's not like there's a lot of us grimms walking around Portland." Thinking of his mother and her departure, he quietly whispered, "Not anymore anyways."

 

The pain that he had felt at her abandonment was still fresh. Sure time had passed but, to him, it felt like it could have been yesterday. Nick stifled the urge to rub his chest to rid himself of that pain and forced himself to meed Marcie's eyes, hoping that there wasn't much of what he was feeling written in his eyes. When she gave him a sympathetic smile, he knew that there had been.

 

"Grimms, wesen, and humans are, at their basic levels, all the same. The differences are what make the wesen who they are and the grimms who they are. What I'll do to start is separate those identifiable differences and catalogue them. Once I have a basis to start from, it'll be easier for me to determine which genes are common with which species." She stopped, presumably to see if he understood all that she'd just said, and then added. "Also, I'd like to conduct a fully physical so that if anything were to change within you, I'll have something to compare those changes with."

 

It all sounded easy enough but Nick somehow knew that it wouldn't be that simple. Still, he also knew that he needed someone on his side and having a doctor who could help him when he needed it, be it with injuries that he wouldn't be able to explain to anyone else or changes that might - God forbid - happen within him, would be useful. And besides, it wasn't like his blood was a hot black market item; no that was more his colon or spleen or whatever organs wesen liked to use.

 

With a sigh, he held out his arms. "I'm all yours."

 

oOo

 

Sean had waited all of five seconds after Nick had left before vacating the premises himself. The dog, Kylie, had kept watching him even after her master had left and it had begun to grate on Sean's nerves. Something in the way that animal kept watch over Nick not only provided him with peace of mind but it also unnerved him. He had never known any dog to be that loyal that fast.

 

As he'd walked back to his truck, he'd recalled a tale from his childhood about a group of wesen whom, instead of wogeing into animals, woged into humans. It was said that they were incredibly private and distrusting and so they certainly didn't reveal themselves to just anyone. And when they did believe they might be able to trust someone, they chose to spend time with that person, while in animal form of course, to determine if their instincts had been right.

 

The sumnjiv, they were called. According to his mother, they were nothing to be feared but if the looks Kylie had been giving him were anything to go by, she could very well have been dismissing them as lesser because she was a regnant. Even so, Sean wondered if there was a way to test his theory. As far as he could recall, there hadn't been any mention of forcing a sumnjiv to woge; you simply had to be patient and see if you were trustworthy. Their carefulness was one of the reasons many didn't believe they existed. They knew as well as many how cruel humans could be which was why they rarely showed themselves.

 

Sean thought as he drove, not paying attention or caring where he was going. Technically he should be heading back to the office but he knew that no one there would dare question his absence. As long as he came back at a relevantly decent time all would be well. So he let his subconscious take over, letting it take him where it wanted to go rather than where he was duty-bound to go.

 

His thoughts suddenly turned from the mystery of Nick's dog to the grimm himself. Sometimes the man irritated him past the point where it was wise to do so. Sean was doing his best to be patient, to let Nick come to him on his own terms but the grimm was still fighting him, fighting their bond on some level. Sure he had given in to their physical attraction on a couple of occasions but neither time had he gone very far and it wasn't a good idea to rev a regnant up only to not follow through.

 

A part of him blamed that for the reason that he had, however indirectly, threatened Nick whilst in the living room. He truly hadn't meant to or wanted to; the words - and his anger - had simply come out without him bidding them to. It had almost been as though the beast within had fought its way to the fore and had taken over, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.

 

Parking in the street, Sean slammed his hands against his steering wheel in frustration. The fact that Nick could get him this wound up was not a good thing. Not for someone in Sean's position, at least. He had to remain the bastion of strength, leadership, and danger. He could not allow himself to be this distracted by a grimm; no matter if said grimm was his mate or not.

 

And on that note, where in the hell was he?

 

Sean looked out the passenger window, his brows wrinkling in confusion when he realized that he'd driven himself to the spice shop that the fuschbau now ran instead of her brother. Why had he come here? Surely his subconscious didn't expect him to ask Calvert for help. Then again, whom better to help sway Nick than his best friend and the best friend's girlfriend? Both of them understood what was happening to Nick, no doubt better than Nick himself did, which meant that they could help him come to terms with it all and maybe help Nick to stop fighting it. All he would have to do was chip a little of his pride away and go inside to ask for their help.

 

Now there were two questions to answer. Could he do it and would they do it?

 

oOo

 

In the Spice Shop, Monroe sat on a bench in the backroom, grinding some dried Arracacha root into a powder. Although it was technically a vegetable, many wesen like to use it as a seasoning. Actually, it was pretty decent in soups in either form. He stopped when the bell to the door rang, announcing a customer. Since Rosalee had gone out to grab them some late lunch, it was up to him to help whomever had come in.

 

Hastily wiping his hands on his pants, Monroe went out to greet whomever had come in. Since he had been spending more time at the Spice Shop, helping Rosalee out, he hadn't taken as many clock clients and he suddenly realized that he missed them. He missed being alone with his clocks and their parts, working in silence and not being bothered by many. He planned to go back, of course, but until then, he went into the main part of the shop.

 

He stopped in mid stride when he saw Sean Renard, regnant and Protector of Portland, not to mention Nick's boss and soon-to-be-lover, standing amidst the powders and vials. The man looked..well, he looked plain uncomfortable, to be honest. As though standing there was a torture only known to him. Beneath that, however, Monroe smelled anger and it made the blutbad in him shy away.

 

"Hi there," he greeted, hoping that his voice really hadn't come out an octave above where it normally was. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "How can I help you?"

 

Sean smirked, evidently finding something funny or ironic in what Monroe had just said. Monroe bristled a little at that. Here he was trying to be friendly and the man had the gall to stand there and, basically, laugh at him for it? Not cool.

 

"I was hoping to speak with you and Rosalee," the regnant said as he removed his hands out of his pants pockets and faced Monroe with his chest slightly puffed and a no-nonsense expression on his face.

 

"Oh, well, Rosalee isn't here at the moment, but I'm sure she'll be back shortly if you want to wait." The man's expression never faltered but Monroe immediately sensed that he was in no mood to wait. "Or I can just call her," he offered, pointing to the backroom where he'd left his phone. When Sean continued to stare he said, "Yeah, I'll just call her."

 

He didn't know that it was possible to hurry as quickly as he had while also walking slow. He was trying to put on an air of calm that he absolutely did not feel and yet he was also trying to flee at the same time. As a result, he got to the phone in record time and quickly typed in Rosalee's number.

 

"Hello," she greeted in answer.

 

"Hey, so, Nick's mate is here," he answered back. In his haste and nervousness, he chose to forgo the usual greeting and went straight to why he was calling. "And he wants to talk to us."

 

"Talk to us, why?"

 

"I kinda didn't ask that since, you know, he didn't really look like he was in the mood to chat."

 

"Ah, well, I'm almost there, so give me about five minutes." He breathed out a sigh of relief knowing that she wouldn't be taking too long. "And relax. He's not going to kill you."

 

"I wouldn't bet on that," Monroe whispered as he turned around to peek back into the main room. He choked on a cry when he noticed that the regnant was practically right behind him. "I gotta go."

 

Clutching his phone as though it were a lifeline, Monroe now stood in awkward silence. Unable to take it long, he said, "She'll be here any minute."

 

"I heard," was the only response. Dang. How good of hearing do regnants have?! Sean sniffed out as though there was a bad smell in his nose. "She was right, you know," he offered by way of conversation. "I'm not going to kill you. That would get me nowhere."

 

"You mean with Nick," Monroe guessed although he managed to make it sound more like a statement. A sudden surge of protectiveness over the grimm made him open his mouth again. "Ya know, I gotta say, I'm not all that comfortable with this relationship that you're trying to start with him. I mean, he just got out of a really long one with Juliette not long ago and I'm not sure that he's ready for another."

 

"Well fortunately whether you like it or not is irrelevant," he challenged. "Besides, it doesn't appear as if Nick has a problem with what's going on so why should you?"

 

Well that was a good point. "And Nick can sometimes be a careless idiot," Monroe countered, "so pardon me for caring about him when he doesn't seem to do it himself. It's a habit by now."

 

The regnant smirked almost mirthlessly. It appeared he was trying to give off the illusion of humor when he felt anything but. Well now, wasn't that interesting? Had something happened between Nick and the regnant to make the more powerful (politically at least) man angry?

 

The door to the shop opened and the bell rang, announcing a customer. Luckily it turned out to Rosalee and she gave Monroe a hesitant smile as she sensed the tension in the air.

 

"Is there something we can help you with, Captain?" She placed her things down onto the worktable in the back room and then came to stand beside Monroe. As Monroe wrapped his arm around her shoulders, Rosalee clasped her hands in front of her in a non-threatening manner.

 

The police captain stared at the two of them, at their united front, and remained quiet. Monroe couldn't tell if he was trying to decide how to phrase any further questions or if he was perhaps wondering if he would ask them anything at all.

 

As the regnant straightened his spine and seemed to draw himself up to a stature that would seem impossible for most men, he sighed. His shoulders were relaxed but strong, looking as though they could hold the weight of the world on them should they need to, and his eyes, which now appeared be turning into a reddish-brown color, burned with a challenge. And yet, Monroe noticed, there was also a defeated air about him. As though he were resigning himself to the fact that he was no longer able to take everything on by himself and have all the answers.

 

The next words that were out of his mouth were words that Monroe never in his entire life thought he would hear come from a wesen in Sean's position and in spite of his best efforts, he simply gaped.

 

"I need your help."

 

TBC

 

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter XXVIII**

 

Sergio watched as Sean Renard walked out of the grimm's house. It was curious that the prince should have been there but that was a puzzle for another time. For now, Sergio was more concentrated on not being noticed. Since it was the middle of the day, there was little chance of him making it to the grimm's front door without being seen but he knew from experience that if he acted casually, he could do whatever he pleased and no neighbor would think anything of it. He only wanted to make sure that the prince didn't notice him. They'd had dealings in the past and the regnant would be able to recognize him on sight - something neither Sergio nor his employer wanted or needed.

 

He waited until the black SUV pulled away before he unfolded from his hiding place behind someone's tree around the corner and began to casually make his way over to the grimm's front door. He made sure that no one with curious eyes was watching before he pulled out his lock-pick set and began to work on the lock to the door. His fingers were dexterous in their work and in no time the lock clicked and the door opened underneath his hands.

 

The house was plainly decorated, almost Spartan in some small sense. The furniture was plentiful given the bachelorhood status of the grimm but he also felt an echo of warmth in its organization. Clearly a woman had lived here at one point in time and the grimm hadn't bothered to reorganize after she'd left.

 

While on that note, Sergio searched the rooms for hints of what the grimm was like. He'd listened in on the wesen talk in the streets, taverns, and wherever else he could find wesen in Portland to hang out, attempting to discover what they had thought of the new grimm. Most, he'd eventually come to realize, didn't even know that there was a grimm in their city and those that did seemed to like him; well, those that were lesser wesen, at least. The more vicious wesen seemed to share a hatred of the grimm but also a growing fear which prevented them from acting on their anger.

 

As he moved through the first floor of the house, he made sure to keep his footfalls light and his ears perked for sounds of someone coming to the door. There were no pictures. It was annoying for him to discover it but it was true. What few frames Sergio could find were either empty or faced downwards. Whenever he came to one of the latter, he would lift it to peer at the potential picture beneath and then put it back down. More often than not it would be a photo of the grimm with a red-head. Other times it would be simply the red-head. Sergio slipped one of the single photos out of its frame and slid the picture into his pocket. He would begin to search out the woman once he'd left here. Perhaps she was a tool that he could use to get to the grimm. He fully intended to destroy the man through the wesen that he'd helped and saved but it certainly didn't hurt to have another avenue to pursue.

 

A creak on the staircase drew his attention away from the search and find and Sergio froze to listen. The sound didn't come again but he knew that that didn't mean anything. Whoever was inside the house could very well have simply avoided making noise. Ignoring his slowly racing heart, Sergio inhaled, sorting through the different smells for something different. He found it, but only slight traces of it, and soon he moved over to the foyer to face the stairs.

 

Before him stood a massive-looking wolf. Its pure white fur was beautiful, as were the deep blue eyes which stared at him, watching him. Its ears were laid back but that was the only sign Sergio could see that told him that the creature felt threatened.

 

He'd had just enough time to wonder when the hell the grimm had gotten a wolf and then the animal was on him.

 

oOo

 

Kylie had been lying on top of the bed in human form when she'd heard the front door open. At first she had thought that it was her grimm coming home but then she'd inhaled and she knew that it was someone else instead; someone unwelcome.

 

She was one of the sumnjiv, one of the wesen whom preferred to remain in animal form. She felt more herself in her canine form. Not that she didn't know who she was while in her human form or any such nonsense like that. It was more like those people who were born one sex but felt as though they should have been born the other. Still, her human form came in handy. For instance, most bathroom needs - whether they be baths/showers or otherwise - were easier in human form. And it was a way for her to sleep comfortably on the bed without her grimm realizing it since she used his soap and such for showers.

 

Naturally her true name wasn't Kylie but as she had never really liked her actual name - Nora - she decided to call herself that and leave it at that. And though she planned to tell her grimm precisely what was going on since he was being so suspicious and was, no doubt, starting to believe that he was losing some small part of his mind, she wasn't quite sure when she was going to do that. She liked the way he treated her while she was in Labrador form and she didn't want to give that up.

 

"Her Grimm". Kylie sighed happily. She liked the sound of that. Not that there was anything even remotely romantic in it because there wasn't. It was more like a pet shed acquired but on a slightly deeper level. She didn't know what it was about Nick Burkhardt that had made her trust him but she had. She'd seen kindness in him from the start and the more shed a arched and listened the more shed grown to like and care about him.

 

His friends were certainly an interesting bunch. A blutbad, a fuchsbau, and a regnant. Oh! Not to mention a human. It sounded like the beginning of a horrible joke, honestly. But despite the strong possession vibes coming from the regnant, the group seemed to work. There was trust and friendship between them all. And between the blutbad and the grimm there was even a sense of pack, but she doubted that the grimm realized it.

 

In spite of all that she saw, however, there was something in the air whenever the regnant was around that made her not trust him with her grimm. It was in the way the creature tried to dominate him, she supposed. In theory she knew there was nothing sinister in it because that's just how remnants are. They use their strength, their stamina, and their standing within the community to manipulate and threaten to get what they want. For some reason this particular regnant wanted Nick and the grimm, albeit hesitantly, was responding in kind. Still, her grimm had also seemed to become more and more tense the longer the regnant had stayed and at the end he had seemed to freeze entirely. It was those cues that had kept her growling at the wesen and she would continue to do so until Nick corrected her.

 

Whomever had entered moved on near-silent feet but the shuffling of Nick's things caught her attention and drew her back to the present. The person below was snooping and since they had waited until both Nick and the regnant were gone before they'd entered it stood to reason that he was an uninvited guest.

 

Sliding off the bed with feline grace, Kylie shifted into canine form again. This time she chose a wolf since they were far more threatening than a Labrador could ever be. Some of her kind chose to become pit bulls but Kylie had scoffed at them, arguing that those breeds were only dangerous if they were trained to be; otherwise they were sweethearts. So she favored the wolf.

 

Her mocha skin paled as the hair upon it grew into fur, becoming the purest of whites. Through lupine eyes, Kylie moved through the top floor of the house almost as silently as the intruder and then descended the stairs. One of her feet hit a freak and she had to refrain from growling in annoyance. Now the intruder definitely knew that he was not alone.

 

Since her secret was out she sat herself down on the bottom stair with her hind legs on the one above it. She patiently waited for whoever was here to come out of hiding and show themselves. It took another minute but the man finally appeared. At first glance he could be described as handsome. His thick black hair dangled just above his shoulders, the ebony tresses shining almost onyx in the sunlight which streamed through the front door's window.  His skin was tanned, like hers, but whereas hers comes from an Indian descent, his came from a Spanish - or possibly Mexican - one. He was tall and his slim build belied the amount of pure muscle which lay underneath his clothes. He had the vibe of a grimm but where her grimm did his best not to come off as threatening, this guy radiated danger and violence. And what was worse? She knew that he enjoyed the harm he doled out.

 

Kylie laid her ears back but that was the only warning she would give this creature of hate. Not waiting for the man to open his mouth, she pounced, her teeth open in a snarl. Her nails, which were sharper than normal, bit into the flesh above his pectoral muscles and gouged deeply while her mouth went for his throat. He never even cried out at the pain she was inflicting, but instead gathered up his strength and threw her off him. So he was an older grimm who knew a lot more about his heritage than Nick did, huh? Fair enough. At least she found out early so she could change her tactics early on.

 

With someone as new as Nick, she could have easily just attacked him head-on and he would have frozen, albeit briefly, in fear. While this Grimm had done just that, he'd also had the strength of mind and muscle to regroup and kick her off. The force of the thrust had her rolling over twice before she could get her footing again and she shook her head to dispel the slight dizziness. Once she was on more sure footing, she bared her fangs in a snarl and tensed, this time waiting for him to come at her.

 

Patience had never been her strong suit and it proved to be harder when you were waiting for someone to attack you. The grimm across from her seemed to have it in abundance, however, so while she was quivering inside to get this over and done with, he seemed to be perfectly happy to let this go on all night. But Nick would no doubt be home soon and Kylie didn't want to have to try to explain to him how she'd gone from a Labrador to a wolf just yet and so she charged first.

 

The grimm sunk down into a high crouch, looking like he planned to use her own momentum to throw her over his shoulder and possibly slam her down hard onto the floor - or wall - behind him. So instead of pouncing, which would have been normal, she lunged low, aiming for his thigh. Sharp teeth sunk into giving flesh and muscle and Kylie had the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. Blood filled her mouth as she bit down harder and she felt the tips of her teeth scrape against bone.

 

Pain, hot and severe, seared through her side. It took her a moment to realize that the grimm had punched her with all his strength and when she did, it did nothing to help calm the pain. It did, however, get her to let go, which had no doubt been its tactic in the first place. She whined as she backed off, the pain was too much for her to simply ignore, and she waited to see what the grimm would do now.

 

He pulled out a long, thick knife and held it towards her, using it as a barrier between himself and her. She snapped off a growl at him, insulted that he would resort to something to petty as a knife. If this grimm was who she thought he was then a knife was taking the easy way out. He thrust the knife forward at her, a sign that she had scared him a little into thinking that she would attack again and warning her not to. His movements were no longer stealthy and silent as he got up. They were slow, controlled, and pained. His thigh bled slowly and she was dismayed to note that she had not hit the artery like she had been going for. But the wound was at least horribly painful, or it looked like it if his facial expressions were anything to go by. She snapped off another growl as he reached for the door and then started forward, barely stopping herself from whimpering as fire burned in her side.

 

Before he left, the grimm gave her a look and she didn't like what she saw in his eyes. It felt like he was not only sizing her up but deciding precisely how he would like to kill her when he saw her again and what he would do with her corpse once he had. It was a cold, calculating look that had just enough glee in it to let her know that he would enjoy immensely whatever it was the had planned and that she would do well to stay out of his way should he ever come back to the house.

 

oOo

 

The house looked cold. That was what Nick first thought as he pulled up in the driveway. With Juliette gone - a wound that was slowly starting to heal but still pained him - there would no longer be any warming welcome waiting when he came home. Sure there was Kylie but she couldn't very well have dinner started and the lights on. She may be an odd dog, one that could understand him, evidently, but she wasn't that odd.

 

With a sigh, he opened the door to his Toyota and got out, grimacing a little when his knee buckled under him and pain throbbed through the joint. His appointment with doctor Kiscic had been..interesting. He'd discovered a new breed of wesen and had thrown his well being and any potential secrets his body may be hiding into her hands and  ow it was up to her to see what she could come up with. He absently rubbed the crook of his right arm where she'd drawn an inordinate amount of blood, differing the small bulge of the bandage there. In truth, she probably hadn't drawn that much blood but it had felt like it at the time. The arm didn't even hurt, really, but he knew there would be a small bruise there from the needle later.

 

Gravel and dirt crunched under his feet as his boots sunk into the snow-laden dirt. With the setting sun, the ground was beginning to harden from cold but it was still soft enough for him to leave a slight indent as well as getting mud on his shoes. As he unlocked the back door, he worked his boots to the point where all he'd have to do is kick them off once he got inside, and then slipped in, doing just that so that he didn't trail mud all through the house. Kylie wasn't there waiting for him like she usually was and that worried him.

 

"Kylie?" he called as he tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and moved further into the house. He found her lying on the floor in the doorway between the dining room and the foyer and he smiled. "What are you doing there?"

 

She whined and the sound set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Some thing was wrong. More specifically, something was wrong with her. He moved quickly, kneeling down by her side, and gently laced his hands on her head. She snapped and whined some more when his left hand landed on her right side and he removed it instantly.

 

"What happened?" he cooed as his hands trailed a bit more over her. Beyond the side nothing else seemed wrong but as he was no veterinarian, he couldn't be sure. He squinted, seeing something mixed in the yellow fur around her mouth and felt his heart pick up a little bit more when he realized that it was blood. Whatever had gone down here, it hadn't been an accident. Nick's right hand fumbled in his pocket for his phone and he dialed the only person he could think of who could help.

 

"Juliette, hey," he said she shed picked up. "Hey, look, I'm sorry if it's late but I kind of need your help. What? No, I'm fine, but my dog is not."

 

There was a beat of silence as she evidently processed the fact that he actually had a dog and then she asked, "Why don't you just take her to the clinic?"

 

"I don't want to move her," he admitted, his blue eyes roaming over Kylie as though trying to see just from staring how much he'd hurt her if he tried. "I think she's hurt her side and I don't want to risk making it worse."

 

Juliette sighed but it wasn't an impatient sound; more resigned. "Okay, well, I'm almost done with my last patient and then I can swing by. Until then, try to keep her co for table."

 

"Okay," he said, wondering how in earth you kept a dog who was lying on the floor comfortable. Then he remembered the blood and said, "Oh, and could you bring a swab? It looks like she took a bite out of whoever hit her."

 

"K. Bye."

 

She hung up without another word and it was then that Nick questioned the logic in calling his recent ex to come and examine his dog. Who knows, maybe he should have called Monroe instead? But then there would be the inevitable chiding about Monroe not actually being a dog and Nick didn't want to deal with that right now. So ex girlfriend it is.

 

While he waited, Nick decided to make himself comfortable. His knee was starting to throb in the bent position it was in and so he straightened his legs out, sitting parallel to Kylie.

 

"Don't worry," he soothed, petting the top of her smooth head and giving her ears a scratch. "We'll get you fixed up in no time."

 

Kylie whined again, this time the sound coming out as a half such and a thank you, and then she closed her eyes and slept.

 

oOo

 

Juliette pulled alongside the curb and parked Subaru, taking a moment to simply stare at the house that had, until recently, been her home. It was weird seeing it from an outsider's perspective. Nothing had changed, she knew. Nick was usually too busy to really change anything of note. But she still felt as though it might as well been a different color with some new trimmings on the roof. It all felt so very different to her and it was that feeling that had her hesitating, almost nervous, as she walked up to the door.

 

There were few lights on inside and it made her wonder if Nick was actually home. But then, he'd called her and had specifically asked her to come over so he wouldn't have just left; at least, not without notifying her. With a slightly shaking - and cold as it was freezing outside - hand, she knocked, beginning to shiver a little.

 

"Come in!" Nick's voice called from inside and she let herself in.

 

As specter, nothing had changed. Save the blonde Labrador which lay on the floor, she corrected herself and she met up with Nick. A wave of love washed over her at seeing her ex boyfriend on the floor, gently petting the sleeping dog. It took a minute for her to figure out that the love which she suddenly felt wash over her wasn't one of romance; more like how she would feel towards a brother, if she had ever had one.

 

"Hey," she greeted, though it wasn't as though she didn't know he was there. When he looked up a multitude of emotions washed over his face and Juliette couldn't bring herself to focus on one of them. Some of them she was pretty sure she didn't want to know the answer to and the others didn't seem important enough for her to try.

 

She shed her coat and laid it over the banister before she casually made her way over to the pair on the floor. "What happened?" she asked as she knelt down behind the lab, opposite Nick.

 

For the most part the dog looked fine. It was relatively relaxed for being hurt. Either Nick had an extremely calm touch or the animal wasn't as injured as Nick thought it was.

 

"I don't know," he answered her, removing his hands so that she had more access to the dog. He began to fold his legs so that he was sitting cross-legged, but then he stopped with a wince and released his right leg and left it lying straight. Was his leg still bothering him? She doubted it but you never knew. "I came home and found her like this. When I touched her side she whimpered at me so I didn't go any further."

 

"Okay," she said, keeping her voice calm and quiet so that she didn't raise either Nick's or the dog's anxiety level. "Let's see what we've got."

 

Her exam was short and gentle. She made sure that she didn't press too hard while touching the dog's side but otherwise she used a normal amount of pressure. Nothing felt broken, which was a good sign but the dog's distinct lack of movement hinted towards how the animal was feeling.

 

"There's nothing majorly wrong that I can see," she said once she'd finished. "Her side seems tender but I don't feel any broken bones and without taking her into the office, I can't confirm much more than that." She stared across the lab at him and then sighed. "You probably shouldn't leave her here, though. Is there someplace that she usually sleeps?"

 

"Lately she's been sleeping with me," he answered. He lowered his eyes as though ashamed or embarrassed that he was, essentially, replacing her with the dog. She understood and bore him no grudge. For the first few weeks, she'd had a hell of a time trying to sleep without somebody next to her in the bed. Slowly, she'd gotten used to it but even so, there were still nights where she would roll over to where Nick should be and find herself wanting to cry because she was alone.

 

"Okay, well, she should probably be put up there to rest." She paused a little bit, blue eyes roaming over him. "Do you need some help getting her up there?"

 

Nick smirked, the look half amused, half not. "No," he said, "I can get her there."

 

And he did so. But it wasn't without pain, she noticed. He moved stiffly as he got off the floor and there was a definite limp to his step on his right side. But he didn't ask for help or mention any sort of injury and so she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to intrude on his pride.

 

The dog, Kylie according to Nick, whined a little as Nick moved her but otherwise she let herself be lifted without complaint or fight. He cradled her gently to his chest, protecting her with his body as though he expected an attack at any moment. Why anyone would come back simply to attack a dog, Juliette couldn't fathom but she didn't mention it. The last thing they needed was to get into an argument over his sanity or lack thereof.

 

While Nick took Kylie upstairs, Juliette remained awkwardly downstairs. She wandered through the rooms which were still so achingly familiar, idly touching random knick-knacks that hadn't been moved in God knows how many years. She noticed that most pictures which contained her were either in places where Nick couldn't see them or they were facing downwards. She had felt horrible for leaving the photos behind but like Nick, she hadn't wanted to be reminded of what was being broken. Now she looked over them and was able to smile at the images.

 

She came to a picture that was, naturally, facing down but when she picked the frame up, she was surprised to find it empty. She frowned. What had Nick done with the picture.

 

"Hey," Nick greeted as he came back downstairs. She looked up in time to see him leaning on the banister with every other step he took and she couldn't find it in herself to wipe the frown from her face. "What's wrong?" he asked, noticing her expression.

 

"Nothing," she lied, forcing a smile. "What happened to this picture?"

 

Now it was Nick's turn to frown. "Nothing, why?"

 

"It's gone."

 

If it was possible, Nick's frown seemed to deepen. He joined her by the banister and took the frame out of her hands. A stillness seemed to settle into the air around them as he continued to stare at the vacancy and she frowned when she felt something akin to cold follow it. It wasn't the kind of cold that would make you shiver. It felt more like a fury which rolled off him in freezing waves. They slammed into her and Juliette had to fight the instinct to step back; to flee.

 

"What is it?" she asked.

 

The most insincere smile he had in his arsenal plastered itself onto his face. "Nothing," he lied to her face. He replaced the frame on the banister and inhaled. "Thank you for coming over." His hand waved towards the upstairs. "I didn't know what to do or not to do."

 

Juliette didn't know how to articulate what she was feeling. Originally when she'd gotten the call she hadn't planned to answer. But then something in the fact that he hadn't tried to contact her until now hinted that there might be a good reason for him to be calling and so she had picked up. She really hadn't wanted to come over, believing that maybe he was going to try and convince her that he was telling the truth once again but then he'd mentioned a dog and her mind had gone blank. When he'd said that the dog was hurt, Juliette had felt an obligation to come and check on the animal. But now that she had and things were done, she couldn't decide if she wanted to leave and never look back or if she wanted to perhaps try and patch things up and maybe try to remain friends with him.

 

"I'm glad I could help," she said, still trying to puzzle through her feelings as indecision warred through her. "When did you get a dog?"

 

"Oh, I found her outside around Thanksgiving."

 

"So you decided to adopt her." She smiled. In a way that sounded exactly like Nick. He didn't have a habit of taking in strays, per se, but that's how it seemed that a lot of his friendships of late began. One way or another, the other person had needed his help and eventually they both became friends. In the case of Monroe, it seemed as though the friendship had gone further than that, maybe moving towards brothers.

 

He half grinned but said, "I think she more adopted me, honestly."

 

"That's usually how it goes," Juliette returned. There was an uncomfortable pause where they both tried to find another neutral topic to discuss but none came. Eventually Juliette cleared her throat and said, "Well, I'd better go. Do you need anything before I do?"

 

Nick's brow furrowed in confusion. "No, this was plenty, thank you." His unspoken question of why he would need anything else from her hung in the air and so she decided to answer it via asking him a question.

 

"Is your leg okay? I would have thought it would have healed by now."

 

Recognition dawned on his face and Juliette assumed that he'd just figured out why she'd offered to do something for him before she left. He smiled at her, and this time when he did, it was sincere. "It did," he answered. "I injured my knee while on a case a couple of weeks ago."

 

Juliette stopped herself from asking how badly. It was no longer her place to ask such questions. Instead she smiled and stepped forward to give him a small, slightly awkward hug. "Take care of yourself," she bid, hoping that that didn't sound too..something. She hated the awkwardness that lay between them. She wanted it to go away but she didn't know how to make it do so. "And call me if you need anything."

 

Nick hugged her back, his arms strong and his body warm and comforting as well as familiar.  His emotions seemed to be warring as he released her and stepped back but he still he mustered a smile. "You too. And thank you."

 

The door closed behind her with a solid thud and Juliette breathed a sigh of relief when it did. There was something almost toxic to her, being in Nick's presence. There was something that pulled her to him when he was near. Whether it was her previous feelings for him or something else altogether, she wasn't sure. But what she did know was that it was probably a good thing that she hadn't tried to stay longer.

 

After all. She had her own life to get back to and it no longer included Nick Burkhardt.

 

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - the Indian food mentioned in this chapter came from The Sudra which is an Indian restaurant in Portland. I'm not from Portland so if there was a better option and I didn't go to it, I apologize. 
> 
> Also, I’m sorry if Monroe and/or Rosalee seem OOC in this chapter.. I seem to have lost their voices in my head :/
> 
> All mistakes are, admittedly, mine. Sorry. Hope You Enjoy!

**Chapter XXIX**

 

Nick let out a heavy sigh as Juliette closed the door. He had been grateful for her coming by but there was also a tension in the air. There had once been a time when they hadn't had to worry about how to act around one another. Now he was _very_ unsure and he didn't like it.

 

Putting his back to the door, Nick crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the empty picture frame. He knew exactly which picture it had once held and he knew _precisely_ who took it. It had been hard not to warn Juliette, not to tell her the full extent of what was going on, not only in Portland but in his life as well, but he'd soon remembered the way she had reacted when he'd confessed and suddenly he no longer saw the point. She was just as likely to believe him now as she had been then.

 

As he looked around at the other pictures, wanting to make sure that nothing else had been taken, he heaved a heavy sigh. A part of him believed that life wasn't supposed to be this complicated. But his was and has been ever since he could remember. Granted, it had only started when his parents had "died", but even so, it felt like it hadn't ever stopped since. In reality he knew that it had only really been this past year that things had begun to get truly difficult but even that short amount of time was beginning to weigh on him a little. Still, Nick was a soldier in the form of a cop and he pushed on. That was what he did while one day hoping that things would lighten up just a little and give him some peace. Then again, he was a grimm so who knew if he would _ever_ get a day off again.

 

And with that cheery thought, Nick went into the kitchen to scrounge up something for dinner. The sun had begun to slowly fade not long ago and it was now almost fully dark in his house. He stopped to add some light here and there as he moved through the rooms but otherwise he ignored everything else. The kitchen's lights were bright and he actually had to blink against them for a moment and let his eyes adjust before he could do much. He hadn't realized how used to the dark he had gotten.

 

It was then that he noticed how not hungry he was. He felt like he should eat but there honestly wasn't anything that even sounded remotely appetizing to him. With a quick, semi-painful, pivot Nick exited his kitchen and went to the living room where he collapsed on the couch and proceeded to simply stare at the walls and things around him.

 

For the most part, the house had been decorated to Juliette's taste. Nick had gone with it simply because he hadn't cared what the place looked like as long as it was still their home. With her gone, however, he was starting to put some thought into it. And he was coming up blank. The furniture was mis-matched but it was his and that familiarity was nice to come home to now that he had only Kylie waiting for him. The knick-knacks were mostly gone. Juliette had been the collector of those and she had taken them with her when she'd left. There was, of course, the odd homemade quilt here and there, laid out on the back of an armchair, the couch, or in a basket which Nick knew wasn't his, and what picture frames there were were filled with pictures that he didn't want to see - him and Juliette.

 

Deciding to something about that last part, Nick got up and began emptying the frames. It made sense that Juliette had left them but as he didn't want them either, it was time to get rid of them. Emptying all but one, which had a picture of him and Hank at some baseball game, Nick took the polaroids to the kitchen and dumped them in the trash. He knew that some would have torn them up or burned them or something the like but to him, throwing them away was equal to either one of those and so he stuck with that.

 

 _I really should get some new pictures taken,_ he thought as he walked back into the living room and all the emptiness caught his eye. _But then,_ he recollected, _if I had, Sergio would be going after Monroe or Rosalee instead of Juliette._ Not that going after Juliette was preferable, Sergio breaking into his house to pick his next target just hadn't been something that he had prepared for.

 

And now, he probably should.

 

Nick once again sat down after he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had just unlocked it when it rang. For a moment he simply stared in surprise as Monroe's name and number and then he answered it. "Hey Monroe, what's up?"

 

 _"Why does something have to be up in order for me to call you?"_ Nick remained silent, choosing to let that speak for him rather than words. Monroe sighed, _"Yeah, you're right. Listen, Rosalee and I need to talk to you. Do you mind if we stop by in about an hour?"_

"Sure, but I can just meet you at the shop if that helps," Nick suggested as confusion wrinkled his brows. Why had his friends taken to wanting to come over to his place all the time? He was perfectly capable of driving over to them.

 

 _"That's okay,"_ Monroe declined and Nick could just imagine the wave of his hand or the shrug of his shoulders that he probably gave to go along with the dismissive tone. _"We could use some time out of the shop."_

"Okay, uh, do you want me to do take care of the food?" At least, Nick assumed they'd be eating while they talked.

 

_"As long as "taking care of" means that you're not cooking, yeah."_

"I _can_ cook, Monroe."

 

As he spoke, Nick got off the couch and proceeded to gather his stuff. His coat came first, which was a bit awkward since he had the phone to his ear but after alternating ears, he managed. Then his keys. Nick actually had to stop himself from adding his gun and badge as it had just became so much of a habit to put them on whenever he walked out the door. This time he was simply going to be going to pick up some food. He rather doubted that he would need a weapon and shield.

 

Then again, there was a crazed grimm in town, hellbent on hunting down his friends ad acquaintances so maybe bringing his gun along wasn't _such_ a bad idea.

 

Decision made, Nick attached gun and holster to his jeans and then made sure to lock the front door before exiting the back.

 

 

 _"No, dude, you only_ think _you can cook,"_ Monroe argued.

 

"You're such a snob," Nick returned as he got into his truck and turned the engine on. He sat there, letting it idle until he was finished with his call. Backing out of the driveway could be tricky at best some times and it only got worse in the dark. It was best not to try it while he was on the phone.

 

 _"I prefer to think of it as a connoisseur. That and I actually_ have _tastebuds that haven't been killed by the poor excuse for coffee that you drink, which I'm assuming can be your only excuse for thinking that you can cook."_

"Like I said, a snob."

 

 _"You're hopeless,"_ Monroe said sounding wistful, as though he'd held out hope of being able to convert Nick. He'd already done so with his fancy microbrews, what more did the guy want?!

 

"And on that note, I gotta go. I'll see you guys when you get here."

 

_"Yeah, alright, see you."_

After making sure that there wasn't anyone out late, walking their dog or something the like, Nick slowly began to back out of the drive. Putting his truck into gear, he had only one thought - where the hell was he going to get something that they _all_ could eat while still avoiding the "Christmas Shopping Traffic"?

 

oOo

 

Sergio limped along the sidewalk, stalking the pretty redhead that he'd seen in the photo since for now that was all he _could_ do. The damned wolf had bitten clear down to the bone and even _with_ his grimm healing, it was going to take him a couple of days, perhaps even a week, to heal fully. So until then, he did reconnaissance. It was boring and tedious but also necessary if he wished to keep breathing and so he bit down on his impatience and kept going.

 

As his target ducked into one of a few veterinary clinics, most likely her place of work, Sergio kept walking on. He'd been doing this long enough to know that if you didn't have a valid reason to continue following, you should move on. So that was what he did.

 

 _Besides,_ he thought as he fought down his desire to torment, torture, and tear apart. _I have planning to do._

This one would be special. He couldn't do just anything with her. No. He wanted to leave a message for the baby-grimm; let him know precisely who it was that was coming after him and his friends.

 

oOo

 

By the time that Nick had returned from the food run it was well past the hour mark that he'd been given by Monroe. The Christmas shoppers were out in full force this year, thanks to the slight economy boost, and had evidently decided to take a dinner break at the same exact place that he'd chosen. Or so it had seemed but maybe that was simply because Nick had been in a hurry and hadn't called in the order first. Either way, he passed Monroe's old, broken-down, VW as he pulled up the drive.

 

Two car doors slamming answered his own and so he waited for the pair to join him up the small hill so they could all enter together. For once the house wasn't dark and uninviting, but that could have something to do with the fact that he hadn't turned the lights off before he'd left.

 

"Do you need some help?" Rosalee offered as they became a trio.

 

"Nah, I got it." Nick offered her a smile of thanks and then handed part of his bundle over to Monroe who simply rolled his eyes. He gave the fushcbau what was now a cheeky smile and then he went to the back door and let them all in. "So what did you want to talk about?" he asked after he'd closed and locked them in. "Or should we wait until there's food to talk?"

 

"Definitely food," Monroe answered as his stomach gave a loud rumble.

 

Rosalee gave Nick a look that was clearly saying she was trying not to laugh but Nick had no such scruples. He muted it down to a chuckle, though, saying, "I think that settles it," as he grabbed the bags from Monroe and placed them on the counter.

 

The smells of Indian filled the kitchen and it made Nick's stomach growl too. He couldn't say why, but this sounded good tonight and since it had the added benefit of being vegetarian (which Monroe would eat), Nick figured it was a good compromise. As Nick pulled out his Chickenless Tikka Masala bowl, his mouth actually watered.

 

"Mm," Roslaee voiced as she inhaled her Black Lentil Kofta bowl. She took the fork and knife package that Nick held out to her and then headed for the dining table. She dropped her stuff onto it and then came back in for the microbrew that Nick had also grabbed while he was out. Thanks to the weather turning, if possible, colder, the beers were cold and in no need of refrigeration. She grabbed three, one for each of them, out of the box and then placed the rest into the refrigerator. "Smells good," she added as she made her second trip to the dining room.

 

Monroe inhaled his own Chickpea Cutlet plate, his eyes closing in what appeared to be pure bliss and a low growl of pleasure coming from his chest. "It really does," he added, taking his own food to the table with Nick not far on his heels.

 

"Good," Nick responded, pleased that his choice was approved of and appreciated. These two, more Monroe than Rosalee but he doubted it would remain that way, had done so much for him that he felt providing them with a meal fell short off paying them back, but it was definitely a start. "Well," he said as he waved his plastic fork ceremoniously in the air, "let's eat."

 

oOo

 

"So, you're captain came to see us," Monroe began, feeling like he should get the conversation rolling.

 

For a moment, Nick stilled and then, like a spell had been broken, he continued chewing. Monroe shared a look with Rosalee, his meant to imply a strong question of 'why isn' he saying anything?!', and then refocused on his friend. Nick’s eyes flit between him and Rosalee, his blue eyes searching for something that neither was willing to give unless they were physically asked.

 

After another moment’s silence, Nick set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. His jaw remained locked, closed, but his expression was open. “What did he want?” he asked after another second’s quiet. There was trepidation in his voice that made Monroe curious about what was going on between the two men. After all, it seemed that they were getting along so well there for a while.

 

“He wanted our help,” Rosalee said, now setting her fork down and pushing her food aside. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table for a moment. After, apparently deciding that that wasn’t comfortable, she leaned back and placed her hands in her lap. “He said that you were having trouble trusting him and he wanted our help in convincing you to.”

 

“Honestly, I think you two just need to talk,” Monroe butt in. In spite of the other two not wanting to eat, Monroe had no such scruples. So, he kept eating his until it was gone. In his opinion it was _way_ too easy to make that happen but at the same time he was also sated and therefore didn’t feel the need to eat more. He grabbed the beer bottle and took a swig, using it to wash down the food. “I mean, that’s what it sounds like to me.”

 

“Yeah, except we’ve _been_ talking,” Nick answered, sounding exasperated.

 

“And nothing’s being resolved,” Monroe said, finishing the sentence on a sigh.

 

“The trouble is, this isn’t the kind of thing that can be handled with talk,” Rosalee said. Once again, she’d leaned forward and now had one arm on the table, her elbow resting on it while she used her finger to point at the both of them. She then laid her arm flat and focused solely on Nick. “The problem that you’re having is that you keep _thinking_ about it. You’re using your head and that’s not where this thing resides. This took place in your heart.” When Nick’s brows furrowed, Rosalee held up a hand to forestall anything he was about to say. “I know you love Juliette,” she said gently, “but I also know that you’ve been slowly pulling away from her with every single lie that you’ve told her.”

 

“No I haven’t,” Nick denied, although he didn’t sound convincing. His arms crossed over his chest, showing that he felt defensive with this conversation. Rosalee, Monroe saw, noticed it too but she continued.

 

“Yeah, you have. I know because I’ve done it too.”

 

Okay, that was a surprise! Monroe’s head snapped to his right to look at the fuchsbau, wondering when she had tried to date a kehrseite. Since they had only recently started to date they hadn’t really gotten to the whole exes talk yet. He was intrigued, and slightly jealous. But only slightly.

 

“It was a long time,” she dismissed, shaking her head to show that it wasn’t that important. “The point is I’ve been there and I know what’s it like. You’ve been slowly distancing yourself ever since you found out who you truly were. And even though you didn’t know that your captain was a wesen until recently, your heart recognized it and began to bond itself to his.” She paused, seemingly to let this all sink in but Monroe believed it was so that she could choose her next words carefully. “How long have you been having feelings for the captain?”

 

Nick’s blue eyes focused on her with such intensity that Monroe had the brief urge to protect her. He knew Nick would never do anything to either one of them but for that moment, Monroe saw the Grimm and not Nick. It was a second before Nick relaxed, but he still looked defensive, and he sighed.

 

“A few months, I guess,” he answered. Monroe saw his cheeks turn red and guessed that Nick felt ashamed for developing feelings for someone else while in a relationship with Juliette. It made sense but Monroe also knew that you couldn’t fight the heart.

 

“So about the time that Juliette turned down your proposal?” Monroe guessed, thinking that it made sense. He felt like he was cheapening Nick’s feelings for the captain suggesting that but it also made sense. After suffering a letdown like that, you usually start looking somewhere else. At least, a lot of people do.

 

But Nick shook his head no. “No, before that, but not long.”

 

Monroe wanted to say something about Nick having feelings for someone else while also preparing to ask Juliette to marry him but he kept his mouth shut. There wasn’t a point in mentioning it right now since that was neither here nor there. The point was that Nick _had_ been distancing himself from Juliette and that he _had_ been feeling something more for his boss than an employee long before this all happened.

 

“The point is,” Rosalee said, bringing the conversation back to where it had started. “If your heart trusts Renard, why don’t you?”

 

“Because my heart is reacting to things other than logic,” Nick said. “While I know that I find him attractive, I also know that he’s dangerous.”

 

“You have _no_ idea,” Monroe scoffed. When Rosalee hit him on the arm, he said, “Ow! What? It’s true.”

 

“And it’s probably not helping,” Rosalee said.

 

“No, he’s right,” Nick said, now leaning forward a bit so that his forearms rested on the table. “And _that’s_ the problem. I really _don’t_ know what Sean is capable of. I don’t really know anything about him, for that matter.”

 

Nick sounded frustrated and Monroe inwardly winced because he was probably just going to make it worse. “So, what you’re saying is, you want to date the captain before you jump into bed with him?”

 

“Well I wouldn’t put it like that,” Nick groused, though there was a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

 

“And that’s what we told Renard,” Rosalee said.

 

“And what did he have to say to that?” Now Nick was smirking. It usually infuriated Monroe when the grimm did that but now, he could join in on the humor. It _had_ been quiet interesting to tell The Regnant of Portland that he had to try and date his mate. But still. It was true.

 

“Well, I’m not sure that he’ll ever come to us for help again but, I think he listened,” Rosalee said, now leaning back into her chair. She looked over to Monroe for confirmation, which he had no trouble in giving via a nod.

 

Nick nodded, showing that he had heard but he didn’t say anything. Monroe understood. On this subject, there was nothing more to say. So, he started another one. “Oh, hey, how’d it got with Marcie?”

 

As though that were some sort of sign, the group began to disband from the table and took their dirty dishes into the kitchen. Monroe watched Nick closely, wanting to evaluate his friend’s health for himself. He knew that he couldn’t trust Nick to be honest with him about it. The man was stubborn when it came to his own health.

 

Nick’s limp wasn’t as heavy as it had been, he was glad to see, but it was still there (though Nick was obviously trying to hide it, the idiot). The grimm also seemed to be tense about something, like he was waiting for the other shoe to figuratively drop or something.

 

On their trip out of the kitchen and into the living room, Monroe took a second to look around the rooms. It took him a few seconds but he did finally notice what was different. There weren’t any photos around. Normally Nick’s house was filled with pictures strewn about in odd little places. But now, with the exception of the one of Nick and Hank, there were none. Had the grimm finally decided to move on from them or had there been another reason for him removing them?

 

“What happened to all the pictures?” he asked as he joined his friend and girlfriend (or at least he hoped she was his girlfriend. That’s what he thought of her as at any rate) in the living room and sat down on the couch next to Rosalee.

 

“Uh, they’re in the trash in the kitchen,” Nick said, actually managing to sound off-hand about the fact that he’d just thrown memories from the past few years into the garbage. He leaned back into the armchair, making like he was about to cross one leg over the other but stopping with a wince of pain.

 

“Wow,” Monroe said, a little awed by how well Nick seemed to be adjusting. God knows, it took him _a lot_ longer to get over Angelina and they hadn’t been nearly as steady as Nick and Juliette had been.

 

“Yeah,” Nick said, obviously not wanting to go into more detail. “So, uh, Marcie,” he said, referring to Monroe’s earlier question. “She was, interesting.”

 

“Did she woge for you?” Monroe asked, somewhat resigned about the fact. He was a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to get to tell Nick about the doctor, that she had decided to do so herself. Since it was one of the main reasons that Nick talked to him (or so it felt at times), he felt like he was beginning to lose some purpose in his friend’s eye.

 

“Yeah,” Nick confirmed with a smile. “Yeah, she did do that.” He paused, no doubt to gather his thoughts and then said, “But she did it to get me to trust her.”

 

“I thought you already knew that,” Rosalee said, sounding confused. After all, there was a certain level of trust needed between doctor and patient.

 

“No this was for something else.” Monroe watched as Nick’s hand rubbed his thigh but he wasn’t sure why it was doing that. Was Nick hurting? Or was he nervous?

 

“She wanted to analyze some of my blood,” Nick said after a time. “She thinks that there’s more to my fast healing than Bud’s miracle goo.”

 

“That makes sense,” Rosalee said, echoing Monroe’s unspoken but simultaneous thought. “Grimms would have to heal fast in order to do what they do.”

 

“Yeah, it’d be pretty hard to go around chopping people’s heads off if they got pounded on by a wesen the night before.” Okay, so he hadn’t quite meant the statement to come out sounding quite as bitter as it had. But it did and he winced a bit as he watched Nick give the minutest flinch. “I didn’t meant it that way.”

 

“I know,” Nick assured. “But you’re right. We couldn’t keep up with wesen if we didn’t have a bit of wesen in us.”

 

“Okay, that’s totally _not_ what I said,” Monroe argued. For some reason he didn’t like the idea that grimms were, at least in part, wesen. He much preferred them to be another breed entirely. Because if grimms were part wesen, then it made what they did to other wesen even more monstrous.

 

“But it makes sense, if you think about it,” Rosalee agreed. “In order to keep up with us, grimms would have to be stronger, more agile, and hear and see better than most kehrseites. Which would mean that they are, in some form, part wesen.”

 

“Which is why Marcie wants to analyze your blood,” Monroe said, still not warming up to the idea and wanting to move on.

 

“She probably wants to see what genetic markers lie in it,” Rosalee finished. It was a bit unnerving how excited she was by the prospect of it all. But, though she wasn’t a physician, she was in the same line, if not as medically based, and so it did make some sense that she’d be intrigued.

 

“Did she clear you off of desk duty?” Monroe asked, his mind suddenly remembering something else.

 

“Yeah, but only barely. I’m on light duty.”

 

Monroe smirked, knowing that his friend wasn’t satisfied with that but also knowing that it was for the best.

 

“Does this mean that you’ll be able to take down the murcielago?” he asked.

 

“Officially, I’m there to arrest a murderer,” Nick corrected, “but yes. Hank and I are going to go back tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?” Monroe was confused. From the way Nick was talking while at The Trailer, it sounded like they’d be doing it tonight.

 

“Yeah, the day kind of got away from me,” Nick said, clearing Monroe’s confusion.

 

There was obviously another story in there somewhere, possibly two, but Monroe didn’t have time to ferret them out. Before Nick had even finished his sentence, he was digging around in his pocket for his phone which, Monroe could hear, was buzzing.

 

“Burkhardt.” There was silence in which Monroe couldn’t hear what was being said and then Nick said, “Okay, I’ll meet you there.” 9

 

“What?” Monroe asked, sensing urgency in his friend.

 

“We’ve got  to go,” was all that he said but Monroe knew what had happened. The murcielago had attacked again.

 

**TBC**

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: A good portion of this chapter is taken from Grimm Season 1 Episode 20.. I figured that since I was including that case, I might as well take an excerpt from the show and write it out. Now, of course, there will be some changes since Nick wasn’t injured in that episode but all in all, the credit for the scene and, in a sense, the chapter, goes to the writers and creators of Grimm, not me. 
> 
> Also, this chapter is definitely rated R, if not RR, for violence and gruesome depictions of a crime scene. It’s not much worse than what I did to Roddy’s father but it very well could be because of who the victim is. I apologize ahead of time.. This death was a bit cathartic for me since I grew to loathe this character this season.   
> Now then.. Carry on. :)

**Chapter XXX**

 

The Charger pulled up to the very nice house in a blur of speed and loose gravel. The lights were flashing in the windshield to show that they were legally allowed to go the law-breaking speed which Hank had achieved and they didn’t bother to turn them off as Nick got out of the car before Hank had barely gotten the vehicle into ‘Park’. His teeth clenched as his knee sent a painful throb through his leg but then he heard the other daughter, Taylor, scream and he forgot all about it.

 

Almost absently he heard Hank slam the car door but as Nick was already pulling out his gun and getting ready to head into the house he ignored it and simply filled in, “She’s in the house,” before giving a small skip and proceeded to jog to the front door.

 

Since he was technically on ‘light duty’ and, more importantly, Hank had beaten him to the door, Nick allowed his partner to kick the door in. They both knew that Nick wouldn’t have had the strength to do it anyways but that hardly mattered at the moment. Nick didn’t waste a moment, however, and he went in through the doorway first while his partner recalibrated his balance. His gun was drawn and he called out the murcielago’s name as he caught sight of her.

 

But she was already on the move and since Nick knew precisely what he was dealing with, he went to give chase, pausing just long enough to tell Hank, “Watch out for Spencer, he could be here!” And then he was off, following the blonde’s trail with seeming ease.

 

He gave a grunt and a quiet ‘ow’ escaped as he made his way down the stone stairs out the back but he wasn’t about to let that slow him down.

 

Right before he hit the bottom, he caught sight of Monroe’s cream-colored VW. He heard the sound of the garage door closing and knew that Lucinda had escaped in there. Figuring that he had some time, he stopped to coordinate with Monroe.

 

“I got it!” Monroe called as he opened the car door. “I got the device. Am I too late? Oh no, I can’t be too late, you’re still alive, that’s a good thing.”

 

If Nick had had the time, he would have laughed. Instead, he was too out of breath and the pain in his leg was beginning to make itself known with a vengeance.

 

“She’s in the garage,” he filled in, tempted to take another crack at the door.

 

“No, no, no! Dude, you can’t go in there, man.” Monroe’s head dipped to the inside of his car where, Nick assumed, he was grabbing the murcielago device. It shot up so he could add, “If you can’t see her, you can’t shoot her,” and then he went back in. He came back out, carrying the device in two parts, saying, “You gotta, you know, she’ll like, blow your head up. You gotta force her out.”

 

“Yeah,” Nick answered, showing that he knew and turning to look back at the garage. “Come on,” he said, jogging awkwardly over to his friend to help. “Let’s set this up.”

 

“Here,” Monroe said, handing him the base on which they would put the main part of the machine.

 

Together they ran around to the side, where there was a window as well as a small balcony, and Nick knelt to place the base on the ground. He bared his teeth in pain as he bent his now-hurting knee but since there was nothing he could do about it, he chose to try and ignore it as Monroe started cranking the device.

 

If it hadn’t been for Monroe’s sounds of discomfort and then pain, Nick wouldn’t have known that anything was happening. He couldn’t hear a thing and he only hoped that Lucinda could.

 

Then the pots started to break and Nick suddenly figured out that he was pointing the thing too low. Readjusting, he aimed it higher, aiming for the window. When it hit the lantern-like lights instead, he aimed it up just a little bit more. Then the window shattered and he knew he had the right place.

 

The sound of breaking glass made him worry but he didn’t try to stop. And then suddenly, a new sound of glass breaking hit and Nick knew what had happened. Lucinda had gone out another window. It took a moment for his brain to fully comprehend that and when it did, he waved a hand at Monroe, saying, “Stop.”

 

Monroe groaned as the pain in his ears persisted but Nick was no longer listening. He was focusing on the high-pitched sound he could hear coming from around the building. Pulling his gun out, he took off at a run.

 

“Hey, wait up! Slow down!” Monroe called behind him but Nick didn’t dare. His adrenaline was the only thing keeping him moving and he wasn’t about to stop.

 

They had both gotten to the top of the stone steps when the noise died all of a sudden. “It stopped,” Monroe filled in rather unhelpfully since Nick could hear that for himself. “Maybe I should set this thing up again.”

 

“Wait,” Nick argued.

 

“No, it could be a trap!” Monroe argued back.

 

The sound of a man screaming got Nick moving again, convincing him that it wasn’t a trap. But by the time he got to where Lucinda was, he was too late. Both Lucinda and Spencer were dead; the girl with her eyes having bled out like she’d been murcielagoed and Spencer with his throat ripped open.

 

“Oh man,” Monroe said, having easily caught up with him. He waited a beat and then asked the obvious. “So how you gonna explain this one on the report?”

 

At first Nick had no idea. Then, the artificial light from the lamps caught on the contraption in Monroe’s hands and he suddenly knew.

 

**oOo**

As Sean walked out to his truck he smiled. He was actually a little impressed that Nick had come up with the reason he had for why people’s eardrums and eyes were, essentially, exploding. Technically, Nick had told Hank and Sean the truth but they’d all agreed on the more mundane explanation for the report.

 

While in his office, he was pleased to see that Hank kept his distance from Nick but he still wish that he hadn’t been there at all. There had been things that he’d wanted to talk to Nick about but he didn’t need Hank to be there for it. It was embarrassing enough for him to have to ask Nick out on a date. The last thing he needed was to have Hank there as a witness to it all.

 

The blood in his veins broiled with need for the grimm. It wasn’t just that Sean needed (and more importantly – wanted) Nick, it was that the regnant within him _craved_ the grimm. It craved to see the creature vulnerable in every sense of the word. The regnant enjoyed seeing the grimm taken down a notch or two, and now, if it could bring him under control in other ways, well, let’s just say that both Sean and the beast within shivered with pleasure at the thought.

 

With a shake, Sean had himself swimming in rational waters. The idea of Nick being vulnerable in ways other than sexually actually made his blood boil as his anger simmered. Anything that dared to harm his grimm would pay.

 

Sean stopped as an unfamiliar scent wafted towards him. Normally he was familiar with all the sights and sounds of the parking garage across from the station. The smells of fuel and exhaust always filled his nostrils and the sounds of cars driving around and other officers conversing managed to muffle the sounds of the city outside the building.

 

But this, this was new. And yet, it wasn’t, Sean realized after a moment. There was a whisper of the same scent in the back of his mind that Sean just couldn’t place. Not right away. Once the man had made himself known, however, it became obvious.

 

“Sergio,” he said, sounding as bored as he already felt. He knew the grimm wasn’t there for him. Not yet at any rate. That would be too fast for Pierre. It was too early in his brother’s plans for the dark grimm to come for him. No doubt, he would want to make sure that he had Nick in hand first.

 

“Sean,” the other man greeted in return, his voice pitched with a slight Spanish accent. “I just saw the grimm and his partner leave,” he mentioned rather offhandedly. But there was a gleam in his eyes the spoke his desires and Sean had to bite back a growl. It wouldn’t do to let the man know precisely how much Nick meant to him. “I’m happy to see that his injury seems to be healing quickly.”

 

“Yes, you did like the thrill of the chase, if I remember correctly,” Sean retorted rather snidely.

 

At this, Sergio smiled a wolfish smile. “You would know, wouldn’t you,” he said. “You were one of the main things that I chased.”

 

“It’s too bad you failed to catch me.”

 

“A trifle inconvenience,” he replied, brushing off Sean’s attempt to rile him. “It’s no matter,” he said before taking a deep breath. “I just wanted to warn you that you might want to stay close to your grimm.” Again Sean fought down a snarl. Something told him this wasn’t a threat to Nick, per se. “He might need the support.”

 

Okay, now that didn’t sound good. But Sean refused to ask for more details as he knew all would become clear sooner rather than later. Instead, he bit his tongue and refused to say another word. Sergio smirked at this and then gave an all too friendly wave.

 

“See you around, my Prince.”

 

If Sean hadn’t needed a hunt before, he certainly did now. His blood was up and his desire to preemptively stop an attack drove him to chase after the grimm was strong enough that Sean felt his feet move in that direction before he had time to think about it. With extreme determination and self-control, Sean stopped himself and walked, instead, to his truck. If he acted now, it would only make things worse and, no doubt, force Sergio to escalate him plans, which was something that Nick did not need. Nick was still healing and if he was to stand against whatever Sergio and Pierre had planned for him, he needed time to finish.

 

So he drove out to the mountains where none save the animals would know he was there.

 

The air was crisp and cold but Sean, having changed into his regnant form, didn’t feel it. He spread his wings as far as they would go and reveling in the stretching feel of it all. Shedding his pants, Sean allowed himself to fully become the regnant.

 

His dragon-like head swiveled through the air as he smelled for something he could hunt. Even from this distance he could smell Nick, could sense him, and so the regnant started heading in that direction. A growl rumbled through him as he thought of the grimm; his grimm. It echoed against the trees and rocks that surrounded him and bounced through his head. The sheer possessiveness in it made the regnant hesitate.

 

In spite of its desire to dominate his grimm, he was also aware of how the grimm was feeling. He knew that his presence, in this form especially, wouldn’t be welcome. It wasn’t usual for the regnant to pause and consider another’s feelings and desires. He barely gave credence to his other half’s whenever they sprang forth.

 

What many didn’t understand was that, while for many wesen, the animal and the human were one and the same. But for regnants and a few select others, it was another matter entirely. They shared the same body and the same soul, but their consciences were completely different. They heard and felt the other one like it was a completely separate person in the room.

 

Right now, for instance, the regnant could hear his other half’s voice; could feel his other half’s feelings. Granted, it usually disregarded them, but still, it could hear and feel them. In this case, however, it’s other half’s protectiveness towards the grimm overrode the regnant’s intense desire to play with the grimm. On the other hand, the regnant also felt a need to protect the grimm. It couldn’t explain why but it did. As far as it was concerned, _nothing_ was going to touch his grimm. Nothing but him.

 

The scent of a bear crossed his path and suddenly all thoughts of the grimm fled his mind. Nothing else occupied him but the prey. The hunt was on.

 

**oOo**

As the night descended deeper into darkness, Nick settled himself into the bed. Beside him, Kylie offered him a lick of hello and then laid her head back down. Nick ran his hands through her blonde fur, wishing that he could do something more for her. Maybe he’d stop by the veterinarian’s place – Juliette’s place – tomorrow for a prescription of pain medication? Would they give him one? Would he even be able to talk Juliette into giving him one? She didn’t seem to think that it was necessary when she was here earlier, but maybe he could talk her into it?

 

After a few more rounds of petting, Nick stopped and left his arm were it lay on the bed beside the dog. Kylie gave his hand a little lick and then she rested her muzzle on his forearm and left it there. Nick smiled, choosing not to dislodge her.

 

He shifted as he tried to get comfortable. He’d pushed his leg too far earlier and he was paying for it now. The throb that reverberated throughout his knee was bone-deep and painful. It made it hard to find any rest, or a comfortable place to do it for that matter. He knew that he should probably do something about it but he couldn’t bring himself to get up. Instead, he chose to ride it out.

 

Who knows, maybe by the morning he’d feel fine. A guy can dream, right?

 

**oOo**

The next couple of days were calm compared to how Nick’s life had been lately. With Christmas coming, it seemed that the criminal element of Portland decided to give the Portland PD a break. And it seemed that the wesen element agreed to the same thing since Nick wasn’t even called to a wesen case.

 

He was grateful for the break because it also gave his knee a chance to finish healing, but he also felt restless. Usually whenever things slowed down like this, it meant that things were only going to get worse, fast.

 

So it came as no surprise when the proverbial shit seemed to hit the fan two days later.

 

The call came in when he was at work. He was doing his damndest not to notice the pair of green eyes that he could feel boring their way into his back, but he wasn’t successful. At long last, Nick gave up and marched into the captain’s office.

 

“What?” he asked with a bit too much bite in his voice. Try as he might, he couldn’t help it. He was annoyed.

 

Sean simply raised his eyebrows in response. It was a silent question, challenging him and his tone. Nick winced. “Sorry,” he apologized, not really feeling it, “but I can feel you staring at me from my desk and it’s more than a little bit distracting.”

 

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

 

Nick’s mind went blank as surprise took over. That had been close to one of the last things that he had expected Sean to say. Not that it was unwelcome. Just unexpected.

 

“Sorry, what?” he asked, wanting, no needing, a clarification.

 

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Sean repeated, showing no emotion on his face.

 

“Uh..” Nick needed a moment to let his mind catch up to reality. Unfortunately, a minute was all the universe needed to tilt his world on its axis.

 

His phone rang and the ringer sounded far too loud for the little office. Nick actually winced and jumped when he heard it, much to Sean’s seeming humor going from the smirk on his face. Nick’s heart jumped when he saw Juliette’s name on the caller ID. He eyed Sean who raised an eyebrow again and then nodded, silently telling him to answer it.

 

“Juliette,” he said not wanting to bother with answering normally.

 

“Nick, someone’s here!” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper but the urgency in it made his heart rate speed up. There was a muffled sound on the other line but while Nick couldn’t hear it, he knew that it wasn’t good.

 

The fear in he heard in her voice had him moving before his brain could command his body to do it. Within seconds of her speaking, he was out of Sean’s office and gathering up his coat and keys. Although he heard Hank follow him, he didn’t pay attention to it because in the next second he heard Juliette scream and the phone cluttered to, what he assumed was, the ground.

 

“Juliette!” he called through the phone, his heart going a million miles a minute.

 

He and Hank headed across the street and into the underground parking lot. When Nick started to head towards his Toyota, Hank grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of the Charger. His first instinct was to fight against his friend but then his rational mind kicked in and he realized that it made more sense for him to let Hank drive, rather than to try it.

 

“I am sorry,” a male, Spanish-sounding voice answered him. He didn’t sound sorry at all, Nick noticed, and he ground his teeth together in anger. “But Ms. Silverton cannot come to the phone right now. She’s a bit.. tied up at the moment.”

 

“What do you want?” Nick asked. He was fairly sure that he knew who the Spanish guy was. His voice dropped a couple degrees as his emotions cooled it. He was furious but he also felt fear. He was scared of what the grimm would do to Juliette.

 

“Ideally, I’d like for you to be here and bear witness, but I’ll settle for you listening in.”

 

“I am _not_ going to sit here and listen to you torture my ex-girlfriend, Sergio,” Nick snapped.

 

The other grimm’s chuckled was cold and cruel. “So you’ve figured out who I am. That’s good. It saves me a lot of time and effort. Now we can move on.” There was a sigh on the other end and then the grimm continued, “I was hired to send you a message. But more importantly, I was hired to use you to send a message to someone close to you.”

 

“Won’t that be kind of hard if you keep killing them all?” He was proud of the fact that he was able to add as much snark into his tone as he had considering there was nothing more he would like to do than beat the crap out of this guy with his bare hands.

 

Juliette’s answering scream on the other line reverberated through his skull. It pounded in his ears with painful intensity but he refused to shy away from it. He forced himself to hear this even though it tore into his heart and through his soul.

 

“I’m sorry, I’d love to chat but I must be getting along. I’m sure that you and your partner will be here shortly and there’s _so_ much that I’d like to do.”

 

He hung up before Nick could say another word which was fine since Nick didn’t think that he could talk anyways. Not with his heart in his throat and his tongue glued to his mouth.

 

“Hank,” he whispered, barely able to force his voice to work, making it sound broken and disused. “Hurry.”

 

**oOo**

Hank pushed the Charger as fast as it would go. Or rather, as fast as he was willing to go while still within the city limits of Portland. Thankfully the streets weren’t too full and so he flowed through traffic rather easily. He hadn’t heard much of the conversation that Nick was having, save what he heard Nick himself say, but he _had_ heard Juliette’s scream. Man, that was a sound that Hank _never_ wanted to hear again. And right now, Hank couldn’t decide what he felt – anger or despair.

 

Even with as fast as he was driving, it still took them the better part of an hour to get to Juliette’s new address.

 

While Nick had been walking like he alone could save Juliette, Hank had been on the phone with the captain, trying to figure out what was going on. Once he’d gotten the gist of it all, he’d had Wu find out Juliette’s new address so that he had an inkling of where he was going. It turns out that she had moved to a development that, while it was technically still within Portland’s city limits, it really wasn’t in Portland at all.

 

Hank spotted Wu’s patrol car along with the captain’s SUV long before he spotted Juliette’s apartment. He pulled in behind the two vehicles, hesitant to let Nick out of the car. As it turned out, Nick wasn’t going to give him a choice and he jumped out while the car was still moving.

 

“Nick, you’re not going inside,” the captain said as he held up a hand to stall the grimm.

 

“Yes I am,” Nick argued back, pushing his way, quite violently, passed the captain and Wu.

 

Hank offered a helpless shrug to his boss before they all fell in line and followed Nick into the building. Evidently someone (probably Wu) had called the building manager and he was waiting for them with the keys to Juliette’s apartment.

 

“Has anyone heard anything,” Hank heard Nick ask.

 

“No,” the deep, bass voice of the manager responded nervously, “but a lot of the apartments aren’t rented yet. Ms. Silverton was one of our first tenants.”

 

Nick shared a nervous look with Hank but all too soon the door was opened. And that was when the nightmare began.

 

All in all, Juliette’s apartment was set similar to Nick’s house, but that could be just because all of the furniture, decorative art, and knick knacks were _from_ Nick’s house. The walls were white, as they were in most apartments, but Juliette had managed to cover that up with several pictures, some actual photos, others simple canvas paintings that someone could buy at Target or Hobby Lobby. The furniture was in an ‘L’ shape, surrounding the TV and facing towards the kitchen which lay open to the rest of the room. Down the hall was where the bedroom lay and it was the one place that Hank _really_ didn’t want to go.

 

“Nick, you should stay out here.”

 

The captain’s stern voice brought Hank’s attention to the hallway. Hank felt his stomach drop when he saw the pile of blood, or rather, he saw the stain on the carpet in the hallway continue to grow.

 

Hank looked over to see that his partner had become a few shades whiter as he, too, saw the stain and Hank went over to his side, hoping that he wasn’t about to faint but prepared in case he did. He watched as Nick swallowed convulsively. For a moment he thought that Nick was going to try and go into the bedroom but it seemed that he couldn’t make himself move.

 

“Nick, why don’t you sit down,” Hank quietly suggested as he nudged his partner into the nearest chair. “Let me go in first.”

 

Blue, pleading eyes looked up at him and Hank only wished that he could offer some sort of comfort to his friend. But he had none to give and Nick was too smart to be placated by little nothings. They both knew what Hank would find in the bedroom. They just didn’t know how bad it would be.

 

With shaking hands and more than a healthy amount of hesitation, Hank opened the door to the bedroom.

 

Considering the crime scenes that they’d been invited to lately, this one wasn’t too bad. But the fact that it was Juliette made it seem like the worst one. Hank clamped down on his stomach, swallowing down his gag reflex before he threw up all over the crime scene.

 

Juliette’s body hung on the wall like a piece of her decorations. Her arms were splayed out so that they were parallel to the floor. One crossbow arrow at each wrist, helps up her arms and one in each of her ankles did the same for her feet. If you didn’t look too hard, you could almost think that the wings which the killer seemed to have made out of the skin off her back were helping as well. But Hank wasn’t fooled. He knew that what was helping most of all was that her feet rested on the top of her head, which had been cut off and placed there on top of the pillows.

 

The blood that seemed to be flowing into the hallway like a river had been placed into a metal bucket and then propped awkwardly so that it slowly waterfalled its way onto the floor and underneath the door. If Hank hadn’t been so disgusted with the entire scene, he might have actually been a little impressed.

 

Given how little time the killer had had, he must have worked really efficiently to accomplish all this before they’d arrived. Hank felt a sense of guilt creep into his veins as he thought that, maybe, if he _had_ driven faster, driven past his comfort zone, maybe he and Nick could have prevented this. And God help him but he didn’t want to be thinking of that as he went out into the living room to confirm his partner of almost five years and his friend of most of that that his ex-girlfriend is not only dead, but beheaded and, essentially, nailed to a wall.

 

“My God,” Hank heard the captain say behind him. When the man had entered, Hank didn’t know but he also didn’t care. He bit down on the comment that God had nothing to do with this and pushed his way past his boss to the three men that were waiting for news.

 

He turned to Wu first, still unsure of what to say. He bobbed his head to the right to indicate that they should move away, out of Nick’s hearing, to talk.

 

“Just say it,” Nick croaked, his blank gaze unseeing but still knowing what was going on nonetheless.

 

With his heart breaking for his friend as he did so, Hank said, “You need to call CSU out here as well as the coroner.”

 

“Oh no,” Wu said as he comprehended what that meant. His gaze traveled from Hank’s face to Nick’s and Hank saw sympathy crease the sergeant’s face. As a last ditch effort, he looked back and Hank, his eyes holding a sliver of hope, and asked, “Are you sure it’s her?”

 

Hank’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Though he didn’t know it, Wu was forcing him to do what he really didn’t want to do. Hank didn’t want to crush Nick while inside the apartment. He didn’t want to have to do it at all, actually, but doing it here felt like all kinds of wrong.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Hank whispered, trying to keep Nick from hearing it.

 

When he heard Nick whimper (yes, actually whimper) in response, Hank knew that it hadn’t worked. Nick let out a shaky breath as he stood up and started moving to the bedroom. Hank didn’t care if he had to wrestle Nick to the ground but that man was _not_ getting into that room.

 

“Hank, let me through,” Nick growled at him when he stepped in the way and placed his hand against Nick’s chest. Through the contact, Hank could feel his partner shaking but at this precise moment, he knew that it wasn’t from anything other than rage. Nick’s eyes burned with ice cold fury as they glared at Hank, but still he wouldn’t give in.

 

“No,” he said, his voice soft but determined. “I won’t let you see what’s in there.”

 

At the sign of a confrontation, Wu stealthily moved away. Hank assumed that it was to call in the cavalry and get things cleaned up and wrapped but when he came back with the captain in tow, Hank knew that he’d assumed wrong.

 

“Nick, you really don’t want to go in there,” Wu assured before he left to go make some phone calls.

 

“If you don’t move out of my way,” Nick threatened, evidently not having heard Wu.

 

“You’ll do what?” the captain challenged, now coming to stand in front of Hank.

 

For a moment Hank was annoyed that his boss had felt the need to protect him (because Hank knew that was exactly was the captain was doing). But then, he’d never really been face-to-face with a truly pissed off grimm before and Hank had the feeling that he could no longer say that. Whatever Nick was about to say was more than likely going to be a threat and Hank could tell that, had Nick been allowed to get the words out, he was going to mean every single one of them.

 

Faced with the possibility of not only threatening violence to his partner but his boss as well, Nick seemed to deflate. Hank wouldn’t say that he backed down any but his partner seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to get very far unless he tried a different tactic.

 

“I just need to see her with my own eyes,” Hank heard him whisper. There was a hint of pleading in his friend’s voice but the words that immediately followed wiped them away. “So that when we catch this guy, I know exactly how I’m gonna kill him.”

 

**TBC**


	31. Chapter 31

All in all, Monroe was having a great weekend. He and Rosalee had only spent one night of it together (not together, together, of course, but you know, on a date) but since he was about to join her for a homemade meal at her place, he wasn’t about to complain. When she had asked him, she had said that she had wanted to thank him for all the help he’s been giving her since she’s taken over the shop. At first he’d told her that that wasn’t necessary but she had insisted and so he had told her that he was very grateful and had accepted the offer.

 

Until the night, however, Monroe had a day job that he had to do. Helping Rosalee was nice and all but it certainly didn’t keep the lights on in the house or food in his refrigerator. So, here he sat, trying to make his mind focus on the watch in his hands rather than the coming night with Rosalee. It wasn’t working, but at least he could say that he had tried.

 

After staring at the thing for another twenty minutes and then not even remembering what it was he was supposed to be doing with the watch, Monroe gave up. He was sure that it had been something simple, but he just wasn’t able to focus. He was love-struck and he knew it. Not that he would go so far as to say that he loved Rosalee but he believed himself to definitely heading in that direction.

 

With a sigh, Monroe gently laid the watch (it was an antique after all) onto the cloth on the desk and then stepped away. Maybe what he needed was some coffee. Maybe what he needed was some coffee. Yeah, that would help him get focused. Or it would make him so jittery that he’d been bouncing off the walls. It was usually one or the other. As he waited for the water to boil, he put two scoops of freshly ground coffee into the press and then he leaned against the counter.

 

For some reason today, he had the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He wouldn’t explain _why_ but he was jittery without the coffee and, much as he’d like to think it was, his inability to focus wasn’t simply because of his date with Rosalee. No, something was happening in the universe and Monroe had the sneaky suspicion that it was involving someone he cared about.

 

He jumped when his back pocket began to ring. Okay, so it wasn’t his actual pocket that was ringing, it was the phone that was _in_ his back pocket, but whatever, the sentiment was still the same. Turning off the stove so the shrieking wail from the teapot would stop, he answered his phone while he poured. “Yellow,” he said, wondering when he’d gotten into the habit of saying that rather than ‘hello’. It was something that his father had always done doing. It used to drive Monroe crazy. Now, it was abnormal for him _not_ to use it. When it wasn’t Nick, that is. If it was Nick, he usually just said, ‘what now?’

 

_“Monroe, it’s Hank.”_

“Oh, hey Hank, what’s up?” Anxiety spike within Monroe. Nick’s partner never called him.

 

The teapot made a clanking sound as he put it back on the burner while he let the coffee simply stew in the water. As was per his usual, he would give the grounds time to blend in with the water before he pressed them.

 

_“I need your help,”_ Hank answered and Monroe felt himself freeze. Normally if help was needed or wanted, Nick would be the one calling. With Hank calling it must mean that Nick was in trouble. Again.

 

“What’s the idiot done now?” he asked with an aggrieved sigh.

 

_“Juliette’s dead.”_ Okay, _definitely_ wasn’t expecting that. For a moment Monroe just stood there in the kitchen, dumbfounded. Try as he might, he just couldn’t make his brain process what he’d just been told. Juliette was an innocent, in so many ways. There was no way she could be dead! _“Look, I’ll explain more later but for right now, I need you to watch over Nick.”_

Monroe immediately opened his mouth to make a joke of the fact that he was being called to babysit the grimm but he quickly shut it. Nick must be devastated. And if Hank was calling Monroe to take Nick off his hands, it followed that Nick and Hank had been the ones called in when Juliette’s body was found. Oh, man! “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said somewhat hesitantly. “Do you want me to meet you at his house?”

 

_“No. I, uh, I think it’s best if he’s not in a place where everything reminds him of Juliette. Not right now.”_

“Yeah, okay, makes sense.” Monroe was in a daze, barely paying attention to the conversation as he wondered what had happened and how bad it had been. “When will you guys get here?”

 

_“We’re on our way now, so we’ll be there in about ten to fifteen.”_

“A little sure that I’d help you, aren’t you?” Monroe groused, though his heart wasn’t really in it.

 

Although he’d lost track of how many times he’d pressed the coffee down, he continued to do it. He must have started around about when Hank had told him that Juliette was dead but Monroe couldn’t make himself stop. It was as though pressing the coffee was the only way that he could express his anxiety for Nick and so that was what he was going to do.

 

_“Let’s just say that I doubted that you’d say no.”_ Hank hung up without giving Monroe a chance to respond which was very rude because given a minute, maybe two, he could have come up with a rather witty reply. But no. Instead, he was left to stand around to fidget while he waited for them to show.

 

**oOo**

Monroe tried to keep himself busy, he really did, but it just wasn’t working. Although he couldn’t concentrate enough to get some work done, he also couldn’t sit still. He paced back and forth in his living room, waiting impatiently for the sound of Hank’s car to pull up outside his house. There was something that he knew he should be doing but for the life of him, Monroe couldn’t remember what it was. It was like, as soon as he’d heard about this latest bit of drama, all thought had been driven out of his mind and now all he could think about was Nick. He knew why, of course, but that didn’t stop it from driving him crazy.

 

The simple truth was that Nick had become a part of Monroe’s pack. It wasn’t a very big pack but Nick was one of the principle members of it. Rosalee was there as well, often vying for top billing for the position of number two, and Hank as well, albeit a little bit less so, but right now his wolf side was solely focused on Nick and how much he must be hurting. It made him want to whine a little, actually.

 

Rosalee! Crap, Monroe had almost forgotten about their date tonight! Guess that’s what happens when someone you know dies and another person that you know is personally, deeply, affected by it. He scrambled to pull out his phone quickly enough, hoping to catch her before she got too far along on the food, and pulled up her contact.

 

_“Hello?”_ she answered, her voice sweet and calming. It was like a balm to Monroe’s anxiety and he felt himself settle down a little after hearing it.

 

“Hey, it’s me, Monroe. Look, I am _so_ sorry to be doing this but I’m gonna hafta take a rain check on tonight’s dinner.”

 

_“Is everything okay?”_ The ways she asked made it sound like a cross between worry and a warning that it had better be life and death for him to be cancelling so late. Luckily for him (though unluckily for Nick), it was!

 

“Un, no, not really.” He paused a little to gather up the words. He knew that forcing them out would make them real and that he just might have trouble doing it but he also knew that he had to, if only to explain why he wasn’t going to be coming over tonight. “Do you remember Juliette – Nick’s girlfriend of three years, though they’d recently broken up? Well, she was killed.”

 

_“Oh my god,”_ she said with a slight hint of horror in her voice. _“Is Nick okay? What am I saying, of course he’s not okay.”_

“Yeah, I doubt that he’s okay,” Monroe said, more than a little glad to know that he wasn’t the only awkward one when someone suddenly sprang news on him. “Hank’s bringing him over now so that I can watch over him. He said something about it not being a good idea for Nick to be in a place that reminds him of Juliette and, judging from Hank’s tone on the subject, I agree.”

 

_“What happened?”_ She still sounded appalled but she also sounded concerned. In the background, Monroe could hear the sounds of pots and pans clinking together and he only hoped that she hadn’t started the dinner yet. _“Were Nick and Hank the ones to find her?”_

Even though she couldn’t see it, Monroe held up his free hand as though to forestall any questions. “I don’t know the specifics. Yet. All that I know is that she’s dead and that it wasn’t good.”

 

_“I feel so badly for Nick,”_ she said and Monroe couldn’t agree more.

 

The sound of a car pulling up alongside the curb had him jumping to the window to see if it was Hank and Nick. He breathed a sigh of relieved when he saw that it was but then his heart sank when he saw how nonchalant Nick was being. The fact that he was in shock was obvious in the way that he was allowing Hank to lead him up the walkway. He didn’t fight it. Simply let it happen. But beneath the shock, Monroe could also sense a deep-seated anger that was simmering, slowly melting away the shock with ever step the grimm took. Monroe knew one thing that was for certain – he didn’t want to be in the way when it finally exploded.

 

“Hey, Nick’s here. I’ll call you back, okay?” Normally he wouldn’t have offered to do this but he knew that she didn’t want the details for gossip and so he didn’t mind giving them to her.

 

_“Okay. Let me know if you guys need anything, okay?”_

“Will do,” Monroe promised. “Talk to you later.” He hung up as the doorbell sounded through the house and he then slipped his phone back into his pocket as he went to let his friends in. “Hey guys, come on in,” he greeted, probably sounding _way_ too cheerful. There was nothing in this situation to be happy about and he knew it but he couldn’t help it. He never knew how to act around a death, especially one like this, and so his default was to try and make it better by pretending that all would be well, which it would…eventually.

 

Nick simply walked in. He didn’t offer any words or looks, just came in and proceeded to head straight for the beer that Monroe always kept in his fridge.

 

“Thanks for doing this,” Hank said once his partner was gone.

 

“Yeah, no problem,” Monroe answered, his eyes on Nick the entire time. “So, how bad was it?”

 

“Bad.”

 

Monroe practically glared at Hank for that. Hank’s tone suggested that he didn’t plan on elaborating which just wasn’t going to fly with Monroe. There was no way that Hank could drop off a devastated grimm and just leave it at ‘Bad’. Nuh-uh.

 

But Hank wasn’t looking at Monroe. His brown eyes had followed Nick as he came from the kitchen and then sat down on the couch, beer in hand. It took all of three seconds for Nick to take a chug, practically downing half the bottle in one gulp. If Monroe hadn’t know any better, he would have that that Nick had simply had a hard day at work. But while that was evidently true, he knew that it also went beyond that.

 

Hank pulled him further into the workroom, probably in hopes that Nick wouldn’t be able to hear what he was about to say, and then he continued his explanation. “The killer chopped off her head, splayed her back to make it look like she had wings and then crucified her to the wall.”

 

As he spoke, anger practically poured off Hank and Monroe’s wolf side lapped it up like it was milk. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Monroe actually believed that he was going to be sick from the image Hank’s words had painted, he knew that his eyes would have been blood-red and on that he would have been on his way to a full woge. He had been about to ask how someone could to that to another person, let alone Juliette, when the answer hit him so hard that he felt physical pain in his stomach from the blow. “The royal’s grimm,” he said, his voice coming out like a growl.

 

Hank nodded. “He called Nick while we were at the precinct. Apparently he had wanted to make Nick hear her scream because the guy had waited until then before he hung up.”

 

Yeah, Monroe was actually going to be sick. He sat down and took deep breaths in an attempt to discourage his stomach and only when it seemed to finally help did he respond. “That’s worse than cruel. That’s monstrous. And coming from me, you know that’s saying something.” Once again Hank nodded but this time he remained silent. Apparently he believed that that was all that needed to be said but Monroe disagreed. “Did Nick see it?” he asked, hoping against hope that his suspicions were wrong.

 

When Hank gave another nod, Monroe didn’t know what to feel. He was outraged that someone could do that, not only to Nick but to Juliette. She was one of the kindest people he’d met, and he hadn’t even known her that long! And yet, as the image his imagination provided him swam into his vision with HD clarity, Monroe also felt himself begin to feel sick again. He was infinitely glad that he hadn’t been there because he probably would have messed up the crime scene. But most of all, Monroe simply felt for his friend and the pain he must be feeling.

 

“Yeah,” now be like that,” Hank pointed at Monroe’s face, which he assumed was in a fixed expression of shock, “for another two to three hours and you’ll finally be where I’m at.”

 

“You were there for that long?” Monroe asked, equal parts scandalized and surprised.

 

Hank shook his head no. “It took a while but we eventually got Nick out of the apartment and to the station.” Hank shook his head again, this time the action rueful and not in response to a question. “I have never seen Nick act like that.”

 

“Like what?” Monroe asked with no little amount of trepidation.

 

While Nick was still a baby-grimm (at least to Monroe he was), Monroe knew that he was getting stronger every day. His training sessions with the grimm were getting more intense and he was finding it harder and harder to surprise Nick like he had when they had first started. With every hit that Nick made, Monroe could feel the strength behind them growing and while he knew that if Nick decided to go after the Royal’s grimm today, he’d be at a distinct disadvantage, he also knew that if he was given another week or two, the same wouldn’t be true. What would hamper Nick right now was his emotions. Once he had a chance to let those calm so that they didn’t rule him completely, he would be better off. The trick was talking him down to that point once they were alone.

 

Hank opened his mouth to answer but was stopped short by his phone going off. Obviously not having expected it, he jumped slightly and then he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. “Captain,” he greeted in a voice that said that he planned on saying more. He was cut off by something the regnant said and Monroe’s eyes connected with Hank’s as the detective looked at him. “Yeah, we’re here.” A pause. “Yeah, I told him what happened.” Another pause, this one longer. Apparently the regnant had a lot to say. It made sense. If Monroe was feeling protective of Nick, there was no telling what the regnant was feeling given that Nick was his mate. “Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him.” He hung up and then sighed. “The captain says that he’ll be stopping by later to check on Nick.”

 

“Shouldn’t he wait for an invitation or something, first?” Monroe asked, insulted that the man had simply invited himself over. He got that these were special circumstances but still. You don’t just barge in on a guy – not when you’re The Protector of Portland. It just wasn’t done!

 

Hank shrugged helplessly, unsure of how he should respond. Monroe understood. After all, Hank hadn’t been brought into this world very gently and there wasn’t a doubt in Monroe’s mind that the detective still didn’t quite understand all the nuances and specifics that followed with the knowledge. No doubt that on some level, Hank new that his boss had a very high standing within the wesen community but Monroe _did_ doubt his awareness of just how high that standing was.

 

When Hanks’ phone went off again, he was more prepared for it. Once again he looked down at the caller ID before answering, but answer it he did. “Yeah, Wu, you got somethin’ for me?” He was quiet as he listened, his eyes traveling between Monroe and his partner in the other room.

 

Monroe peeked around the corner to check on Nick as well. The grimm was still sitting on the couch, his arms at his sides and his head up, meaning that his gaze was at the window level and probably not focused on a single thing. The beer bottle now sat empty on the table in front of him but there wasn’t another to replace it which suggested that he was thinking about something and he didn’t want to be too fuzzy-headed to concentrate. Monroe admired that but also hated it because it meant that he was going to have his hands full once Hank left.

 

“Yeah, Okay, I’ll be there in about twenty.” When Monroe looked back at Hank, the detective was putting his phone into his coat pocket (no doubt to make it easier to reach should he be needed) and pulling out his car keys. “Wu says the coroner found something on Juliette’s body,” he filled in, making Monroe look at him in confusion. There was probably a lot on Juliette’s body; what made this one so special? It didn’t take long for Hank to clarify, “It’s DNA from a different person. Wu thinks it might be from the killer but I suspect that it’s from the next victim.”

 

That made sense. Chances were that the Royal’s grimm, Sergio, knew that they knew who he was and why he had come so he wasn’t likely to do something so trivial like leave his own DNA as proof. That would make it too easy for the Portland PD to jump into the fight and then the grimm would be outnumbered, something that Monroe knew he didn’t want to be. So leaving DNA from the next victim would be more logical as it pulled Nick further into the game. The more psychological warfare one could inflict on one’s prey, the better.

 

It disgusted Monroe that he could still think of that as logical but there were some things that you just didn’t get away from, no matter how hard you tried. Every day was a struggle for Eddie. There was never one that he didn’t have to keep a tight leash on his wolf side because he knew that if he gave in one time too often, he might just lose himself entirely. Eddie didn’t like who he had been before and he definitely didn’t want to go back to it. And yet, the wolf in him could still sense Nick’s pain and anger and it made him want to howl and help hunt down the grimm who had caused it all. It was a dangerous position for Monroe and he knew it. Maybe he should call Rosalee and see if she’d be willing to come over and help keep him grounded.

 

“Right, well, don’t worry about a thin here cause I’ve got ya covered.” As he spoke, Monroe swung his hands forwards, looking like he was going to clap them but he refrained from doing it, choosing not to break the quiet that now seemed to settle inside the house. He added a smile to reassure the detective that had this but it was more an attempt to reassure himself that he could do this.

 

Hank’s deadpanned expression challenged him but the other man didn’t say a word. He probably didn’t want to hear about any doubts that Monroe may be having and lord knows that he didn’t need another thing to worry about. The man was worried enough over Nick while having to balance work and a secret life of sorts; the least Monroe could do was lessen the amount of anxiety the detective held for his partner.

 

“Let me know what you find,” Monroe added, curious about the new piece of evidence. “I mean, I know that another victim won’t be a good thing but it might help to keep Nick’s mind off hunting down Juliette’s killer.”

 

“Unless the victim is a friend of Nicks’, then it might add fuel to the flames.”

 

_Okay, fair point,_ Monroe silently conceded. But since he was convinced that this wasn’t the case, he didn’t say it out loud. _Anything_ had to be better than Nick sitting on his couch, brooding and planning revenge at the same time.

 

Right?

 

**oOo**

Hank’s footfalls were annoyingly loud as he made his way to the coroner’s office. It seemed that the entire place was deserted and only him, the coroner, and the dead occupied the place. It lent a new level of creepy to the place that it didn’t need and Hank shrugged into his coat some more to ward off the chill which had nothing to do with the cold in the building.

 

“Ah, detective,” the coroner (she was new and Hank had forgotten her name) greeted with an almost brittle-looking smile. She sounded pleased to see him, which was something that Harper had _never_ been, but there was also a dry note in her voice. “Glad you could make it.”

 

He winced at her gentle rebuke. He’d told Wu twenty minutes, which the sergeant no doubt had told her, but he’d actually taken near to forty. It had taken him longer than he had liked to make himself leave Nick in Monroe’s care and then while on his way into the office, his stomach had started growling t him so he’d also stopped to grab something to eat. “Sorry,” he said as apologetically as he could. “Something came up.”

 

The coroner (what _was_ her name?! Alice? Maryanne? No – Renaiah!) shrugged a delicate-looking shoulder and then turned her back on him to make her way over to the filing cabinet on the wall. Hank had just enough time to admire her rather shapely form from behind before she turned around, file folder in hand, and narrowed her eyes at him. “As glad as I am that you like what you see, I’d appreciate it if you kept your eyes up here.” She circled her face in a small gesture as she spoke and then made her way back to her desk. “Now then, I know that Doctor Harper liked to do show-and-tell for you and your partner but since you were late, I decided not to wait.”

 

“What did you find?” he asked as he joined her at her desk and then peered over her shoulder to look at the papers in the folder.

 

Though he couldn’t understand much of it, he did know enough to know that he was right. It had been DNA from another victim, one which they already had in the system and had been the victim of a suspected kidnapping until Nick and Hank had found new evidence and had, eventually, found her. Her face, which had a gaunt and glaring expression, now stared back at him in miniature form and Hank suddenly found himself wondering how she was getting along. Well, chances were that she wasn’t doing too well now, seeing as how she might be dead, but he wondered how she had adjusted before then.

 

“There were two hairs on Ms. Silverton’s body that didn’t belong to her. Both did, however, belong to the same person and going from the file you guys have on her, both you and your partner are familiar with her case.”

 

She presented the file to him in a way that suggested that she was done with the case as a whole and for a moment Hank stood there, shocked. He glanced down at the file containing readouts matching the DNA evidence to Holly Clark and then he looked at her. “Can you tell if Holly was alive when the hairs were taken?” he asked, though he knew it was a longshot at best.

 

Renaiah (Ren, for short, as he was told by those that she counted as friends) raised an expressive eyebrow at him. Her skin was a little lighter than his but not by much and it didn’t really hide the minor flaws in it but Hank still thought that she was beautiful. Her expression right now, however, was bordering on incredulous, if not like she was questioning his intelligence. “Do I look like a psychic to you?” she asked with more than a little bit of attitude.

 

Since Hank knew that she had quite the reputation of not taking any shit from anyone, he didn’t take offense to her tone. Even though she’d only been here a month, a lot of the officers either feared her or despised her. As a rule, unless they asked a particularly stupid question, however, she didn’t normally slap Hank or Nick with it as they’d treated her with respect, something that a lot of the others weren’t known for, as well as kindness with just a bit of their particular form of attitude when she’d started. It had taken some time but she had eventually warmed up to them and while Hank was sure that Nick was her favorite, he still hoped to maybe get her to go out with him.

 

“Alright, I was just askin’,” he said as he held up his hands in surrender. He almost added a comment about her calming down or some such but as that was likely to make her say more, he bit his tongue. “I didn’t know if there was a process that you had for being able to tell something like that.”

 

She rolled her eyes, expressing what she thought of him asking such an ‘idiotic’ question and leaving it at that. “No,” she said, probably just in case he was feeling particularly stupid today. “We don’t have a process for that and no, I don’t know. I was able to get the DNA from tissue that was attached to the sample but that was about it.”

 

“So it was pulled out?” Hank concluded. He’d been working the job long enough to know that if the hair had fallen out, there wouldn’t be any tissue on the stand.

 

Ren nodded. “But beyond that, it’s anyone’s guess if the girl was alive when it was done or if she is still alive now.”

 

“Thanks,” he said, closing the folder and handing it back to her.

 

“How’s your partner?” she asked, her voice gentling and therefore confirming his suspicions that she liked Nick better than himself. “I heard that the victim was his girlfriend.”

 

“He’s handling it about as well as you might think,” he answered while trying to make sure that he kept things vague.

 

“Was she wesen?”

 

“I’m sorry?” he asked to give his brain time to catch up.

 

“Was Ms. Silverton wesen?” she asked, speaking slowly in case he was dumb and deaf. She paused for a moment, looking surprised, and then added, “Sorry. I had assumed that Nick had told you.”

 

“He’s told me some things,” Hank hedged, still not wanting to say too much. A new suspicion formed and decided to act on it. “Are you wesen?”

 

She nodded. “Fuchsbau,” she answered and said no more when Hank nodded his understanding.

 

“So that’s why you like Nick better than me,” he joked with a smile.

 

She scoffed. “No, I like him better because he’s not trying to get into my pants.”

 

“To be fair, that’s not all I want to do either,” Hank returned.

 

Again, she rolled her eyes. “Goodnight Detective Griffin.”

 

Always up for a challenge, Hank smiled as dashingly as he knew how. “Until the next time, Doctor Klein.”

 

He left before she could throw something at him (which she honestly looked just about ready to do), pulling out his phone and calling Wu. “Hey, can you find out the current address for Holly Clark?” he asked once the sergeant had answered. “Somethin’ tells me she’s no longer living with her mother.”

 

**TBC**


	32. Chapter 32

Rosalee had waited approximately two hours for Monroe to call her back. During that time she had kept herself busy by preparing the day’s treatments for her customers and then filling out the supply ledger and checking to see what she would have to order in the near future. That done, she had made tea and attempted to sit and wait patiently but when that hadn’t worked, she had begun to clean. Needless to say, the shop was quite spotless when she had left it.

 

Once that two hour window had passed, however, she had given in and picked up the phone. She’d smiled at how relieved Monroe had been that she had called, her anxiety at possibly calling when she shouldn’t have relieving when he had said that he had literally just been about to call her. But she had also been able to hear the undertone of worry in his voice and she had frowned at it.

 

It was then that he had filled her in on what had happened and she had not only understood his worry, but she also empathized with it as well as his anger. Although she hadn’t known Nick for very long, she did think of him as a good friend and she found herself, oddly enough, caring about the grimm as though he were the brother that she had lost. To find that someone had done that to him – had made him listen as the other grimm had begun to tear his ex-girlfriend apart – had been horrifying to say the least.

 

She hadn’t wasted any time in offering to bring them something to eat, believing that Monroe hadn’t actually thought of dinner yet and hoping that her presence there might help diffuse some of the tension she heard mounting in the blutbad’s voice. He had readily accepted and so she had left the shop, picked up some takeout and gone over.

 

Now, as she sat in the living room, staring at Nick, she wondered if she shouldn’t have called sooner.

 

Although Nick wasn’t doing anything but sitting and thinking, she could smell the Grimm coming off him in strong waves, almost like the predator in him was dying to get out and take revenge. It had to be driving Monroe crazy but she didn’t think that Nick was aware of it. In fact, he seemed to not be aware of anything at the moment. He hadn’t acknowledged her presence, or much else it seemed, since she’d arrived and Rosalee was convinced that he was stuck inside his own mind. Someplace that she was _sure_ he didn’t need to be.

 

She locked eyes with Monroe and nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen. He seemed to understand what it was she wanted and as she stood up to go there, he followed.

 

“Has he been like this ever since he arrived?” she asked as she leaned in against the counter.

 

Monroe went to the fridge and grabbed a beer before he mirrored her position at the counter opposite her. She smiled slightly when she noticed that it was so he could keep an eye on Nick but wiped it as soon as he looked over at her again. “Pretty much, yeah.”

 

She looked in that direction as well, although she couldn’t actually see anything. Then she sighed. She felt helpless and she didn’t like it. Not only that, but she wasn’t used to it. One of the main things she loved about being an apothecary was that she got to help where others couldn’t. Now – there was nothing she could do to help and she hated it.

 

“I wish there was something we could do,” she mumbled quietly, talking to herself. She had hoped that the food would be enough of a diversion but while both she and Monroe had eaten with vigor, Nick hadn’t touched any of it. It now sat in Monroe’s refrigerator, patiently waiting for the grimm whenever he was ready for it.

 

The glass ‘clink’ of the beer bottle settling onto the counter made her turn to look at Monroe, who, while he was still focused on Nick, also looked like he had just had an idea. But then his brows furrowed and he seemed to shake his head like he was dispelling it. He opened his mouth to say something but as soon as he did, his phone rang. Monroe jumped and Rosalee joined him, although with slightly less flourish.

 

He looked down at the caller ID and then looked up at her. “It’s Hank,” he explained before answering it. “Hey, Hank, what’s up?” There was a pause as he listened to whatever it was that the detective was saying and then his brows furrowed again. “Yeah, he’s still here but I’m not sure how much help he’s going to be. I don’t think he’s talked to her since you guys dropped her off at her mom’s.” He then rolled his eyes and left the kitchen.

 

Rosalee trailed him, curious about what was going on and whom they were talking about. She remained in the doorway, though, so that she didn’t feel like she was intruding, and leaned against it while she listened.

 

“Hey, Nick, have you talked to Holly Clark recently?”

 

Monroe’s question broke through where nothing else had. For once Nick seemed to snap out of his stupor and he pivoted to the right so that he could focus on the blutbad. From where she stood, Rosalee could see that his eyes were red with unshed tears but they also held a sort of curious question in them. Maybe that was merely what Nick thought of Monroe’s question, but she didn’t know.

 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. His brows furrowed for a second as he cleared his throat and then he added, “Yeah, I check in with her every few weeks or so.”

 

“And you didn’t tell me?” Monroe asked, sounding offended. His voice pitched a little, making it sound like he had raised it, when he actually hadn’t. “Dude, I could have gone with you. You aren’t the only one who wanted to check on her.”

 

Nick’s eyebrows rose at the rebuke and surprise flitted across his face. “Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t really sound all that sorry. “I guess after Roddy, I just didn’t think you’d be interested in keeping in contact.”

 

Who was Roddy?

 

Rosalee searched the recesses of her mind for the name that sounded somewhat familiar. Then she had it. Monroe had mentioned the musical prodigy when he had been telling her some of his and Nick’s adventures over the past year. He hadn’t spoken about the kid as though he had had troubles with him (well, beyond the whole blutbad befriending a reinigen thing, of course) which was why she had been confused at first.

 

“Well that sure as heck didn’t stop you from dragging me into it, did it?” Monroe challenged almost good-naturedly. He winced as Hank, no doubt, yelled in his year to try and bring the conversation back to the present. “Sorry, Hank. Yeah, he says that he’s talked to her. Why?” Rosalee watched as his expression became somber and some of the color seemed to drain from his face. “Oh no,” he whispered.

 

“What?” Nick asked, suddenly alert to the fact that something else was going on and that it wasn’t good. He stood up and stepped closer to Monroe, his blue eyes flitting from Monroe’s face to Rosalee’s. She shook her head to show that she didn’t know what was going on either and so his gaze refocused on his friend.

 

Monroe held up a hand to forestall any added questions, listening to what Hank was telling him. “Uh-huh. Yeah,” he now focused on Nick, “hey, where is she these days?”

 

The question seemed to throw Nick for a second, and his brows furrowed in confusion and recollection. “She’s got an apartment above the café where she works,” he answered. “Monroe, just tell me what’s going on.”

 

“Nick says that she had an apartment above where she works,” Monroe filled Hank in. “Do you have that address?”

 

Now Nick looked annoyed. Clearly he wasn’t happy about being ignored and only used for information. A part of Rosalee thought that it was a good thing for him to feel that, that maybe he would understand a small part of what Monroe had been feeling for the longest time. But then another, bigger, part realized that that wasn’t fair to either him or Monroe. The two of them had slowly gotten closer (at least since she’d been in the picture) and she had been able to tell that Nick _had_ been trying to be a better friend and not use Monroe only for his wesen knowledge.

 

“Yeah, I’ll tell ‘im.” Monroe hung up, placing his phone into his back pocket and then looking at Nick. “Hank says he’s on his way to pick you up.”

 

“What’s going on with Holly?” Nick asked, sounding both concerned and exasperated.

 

Rosalee watched as Monroe hesitated and then she saw Nick’s chest start to heave as his breathing increased. She noted the signs of worry in him and knew that they were a direct response to Monroe’s non-answer. She also knew that she could do nothing about it and so she remained a silent observer.

 

“The coroner found another hair on..at the crime scene.”

 

Rosalee winced as Nick flinched. They both knew that Monroe had been about to say ‘on the body’ but had changed it as quickly as he could. It had been too late, however, and the damage had been done. Nick averted his gaze, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that had filled his eyes once again.

 

Monroe heaved a sigh and looked towards the ceiling, no doubt feeling guilty for his small slip. Rosalee felt for them both and she made a note to herself to try and give Monroe some comfort as well as Nick. Lord knows this was probably almost as hard on Monroe as it was for Nick. After all, Monroe seemed to feel everything that Nick did, if not on a smaller level.

 

“Sorry man,” he apologized. “This is going to take some time to get used to.”

 

“You’re telling me,” Nick replied sardonically. His smile held no warmth or humor but it didn’t matter since it didn’t stay on his face long. “I’m assuming that the hair belonged to Holly.”

 

“Yeah,” Monroe answered on a sigh. “Hank thinks that Sergio was leaving you a clue as to who the next victim was.”

 

Nick’s jaw clenched at the other grimm’s name, and Rosalee believed she even saw him ball his hands into fists, but she wasn’t sure. If she had, she hoped that Nick got his hands on Sergio when he was ready. Because she had no doubt that when he did, Sergio wasn’t going to live much longer.

 

Normally she wasn’t okay with things like murder, especially not at the hands of a grimm. But not only was this a grimm-against-grimm thing, but it was clear that the other grimm had no compunction whatsoever in killing whomever or whatever he liked. That made him a threat to everyone, not just to wesen, and not just to Nick. Since he seemed to fixate on Nick, personally, it also meant that he was a bigger threat to those who knew or were friends with Nick, putting both Monroe and herself in the crosshairs.

 

“No,” Nick argued, sounding far more rational than he had any right to be.

 

If Rosalee had been in his place, she would have been a complete and utter basketcase. She would have been screaming, and crying, as well as plotting her revenge. This calm, detective-mode wasn’t unknown to her but it disturbed her a little to see Nick don the mask so smoothly. Sooner or later, that man was going to implode from all the things that he compartmentalized.

 

“No, he wouldn’t be that obvious,” Nick continued as the gears in his mind cranked and rolled. “He would want us to _think_ that he was going to go after Holly..”

 

“Which would give him time to go after the real target,” Monroe finished with an implied ‘shit’ at the end of the sentence.

 

“Is he going after these people in a specific order?” Rosalee asked, sensing that they were a bit stuck as to who the next target could be.

 

Nick was shaking his head before she’d even finished. “My mother was, it seemed, but Juliette was Sergio’s first kill since he’s taken over. And her connection with me was the thing that condemned her.”

 

Swallowing a platitude about how that wasn’t true (because they all knew that it was), Rosalee said, “Okay, so presumably, he’s going to pick off where your mother left off, correct?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Monroe said. “I mean, this guy is nuts but he would also know that we would have guessed his pattern by now and also know who his next target would be.”

 

“Well, what’s his pattern?” Rosalee asked, confused.

 

“My mother was going after the wesen that I have met and helped since becoming a grimm,” Nick filled in off-handedly. “And Holly would have been next on her list. Except-”

 

“Except she missed Roddy when she went after his father,” Monroe continued, both men looking excited that they’d, probably, figured it out, though Rosalee wasn’t so sure.

 

“He’s probably going after Roddy,” Nick said, confirming that he believed them to be right.

 

“But isn’t Roddy missing?” Rosalee asked, recalling that from a fleeting conversation she’d heard back when the murder of the kid’s father had happened.

 

“Yeah but chances are he’d go to a friend’s house,” Monroe answered. It was then that he noticed Nick get a little paler and he hesitated in asking, “What?”

 

“He would run to Holly,” Nick answered after swallowing convulsively.

 

It was obvious to Rosalee that Monroe wanted to ask when Holly and Roddy had become friends but Nick hadn’t given him the time. From the moment he’d spoken he seemed to become even more animated, never slowing down as he deposited his beer bottle into the trash can and then gathering up his things. Even though Hank hadn’t arrived yet, he seemed determined to leave and Rosalee thought that he meant to run to the rescue – car or no car.

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Monroe offered. He stood out of Nick’s way, apparently used to this frantic energy and realizing that it won’t do any good for him to get in the middle.

 

“No,” Nick practically yelled. But whereas when most people snap, they are angry. Nick was scared. Whether it was for Holly’s and Roddy’s safety or Monroe’s, though, Rosalee couldn’t tell. More than likely, it was a bit of both. “No, you stay here. Another blutbad coming onto her territory would probably make her more defensive.”

 

That was a fair assessment but Rosalee still had the feeling that there was more to it than that. Still, she said nothing. While she knew and understood why Monroe wanted to go with Nick, she was glad that he was going to stay safe, here at his home. This was more of a grimm/police business thing, and Monroe didn’t need to be getting in the middle of it. Not yet, anyways.

 

Tires screeching to a stop on the pavement outside told them that Hank had arrived and in as much of a hurry as Nick felt. Nick offered his two friends a look of warning, bidding, “Be careful,” before he was out the door and climbing into the Charger.

 

“Well that was dramatic,” Monroe commented. It didn’t take him long to step around the couch and collapse onto it, occupying the same spot that Nick had just moments ago.

 

“It _was_ rather anticlimactic,” Rosalee agreed, joining him. She looked him over. “Are you worried about Holly?”

 

“No, she can take care of herself. God knows she’s had to for a good portion of her life,” Monroe dismissed. His head turned so that he could look at the door and then he turned back to look at her. “It’s Nick I worry about.”

 

She smiled, hoping to comfort him with it. “Me too.”

 

It wasn’t long after that that they parted ways. As much as Rosalee wanted to stay, she knew that Monroe wasn’t up for much conversation or company and so she decided that it was best to simply leave him be. Even so, he’d thanked her for coming over and for the food and had even given her a kiss. She smiled when they parted, blushing a little as her desires tried to override her self-control.

 

As she climbed into her car, she kept an eye on Monroe’s house. She knew that she couldn’t do anything for him but that didn’t stop her from wanting to. She smiled again as she thought about the kiss. Turning on her car, Roslaee had a startling realization, one that made her take her hands off the wheel and simply stare out of the windshield

 

Although she couldn’t say that she was fully there, she knew that she was getting there.

 

She was falling in love with Monroe.

 

**oOo**

Nick sat in the Charger, trying his best not to fidget. It was times like these that it was hard to be patient or cool-headed. There was a point in being a cop where you learned to separate yourself from the potential victims or the victims themselves. You're taught not to take things too personally. But when you’re being targeted by the killer, every victim of theirs _is_ personal and that’s usually when cops make mistakes.

 

He knew they were close before Hank even pulled up alongside the curb. People seemed to pour out of the café and running in different directions, presumably to their cars. There wasn’t any screaming, thank God, but Nick could tell they were all frightened. All except one.

 

The man was tall, dark-haired and tan-skinned. Where others scrambled to get out of the way, he walked coolly, casually. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were set back and relaxed. As Nick got out of the car, the man stopped to look at him, offering a smile, which Nick had the immediate desire to knock off the guys’ face, as well as a salute.

 

A person bumped into the stranger, briefly knocking him off balance, and it was then that Nick saw something catch the sunlight. Nick’s heart stopped when he saw the silver necklace, and recognized it as one that he’d gotten Juliette for their anniversary. He hadn’t realized that she’d taken it with her or kept it and he _really_ wished that he hadn’t discovered it because the guy who killed her now wore it as a token.

 

For a moment Nick thought that he was going to be sick. The man was actually proud of what he had done! Nick had seen many a monster while he was investigating the deaths of Portland but this was the first time that he had actually believed the killer to be evil.

 

“Nick!” Holly’s voice calling his name drew Nick’s gaze from where the grimm, now walking away like he was simply taking a nice stroll through Portland, had stood to look at the young blutbad.

 

Over the past several months, Nick had had the pleasure to watch as Holly had gone from a scared and confused girl who was being thrust back into society to a confident and lively young lady with more than a little bit of a protective streak in her.

 

She wore a yellow baby-tee, jeans, a black apron with a notepad and pen tucked safely inside, and Keds. Around her neck she wore a silver necklace in the shape of a heart which shone in the December sun the same way that Juliette’s had whilst around Sergio’s neck. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her face and blue eyes.

 

Behind her stood a very scared looking Roddy. He hung back, not quite as willing to abandon the safety of the building as Holly was. At the sight of Nick, however, the reinigen rolled his eyes. “Oh good, another grimm,” he snarked with as much sarcasm in his voice as he could muster. Nick didn’t pay attention to the comment, though. He could see the fear in the kid’s eyes as well as the slight relief at seeing him approach.

 

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked as he approached Holly. From what he could tell there was no damage to the building or the people inside but he wanted to make sure.

 

She nodded, “Yeah, we’re okay.” In her eyes Nick didn’t see the fear that he would have thought he would. Instead he saw anger and a slight hint of red. “He tried to kill Roddy,” she said, the red in her eyes growing deeper.

 

“A friend of yours?” Roddy challenged.

 

Nick ignored the kid, letting the accusation roll off him like water over glass. He knew that Roddy didn’t actually believe that Nick would send someone to have him killed. But the kid was shaken and he was looking for someone to blame. Instead, he remained focused on Holly who was the more rational of the two and rolled her eyes at her friend’s comment.

 

“Does this have anything to do with the jagerbar killings and Roddy’s dad?” she leaned in and asked in a whisper so that no one could overheard them and think they were insane.

 

“Sort of,” Nick answered.

 

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards the café’s entrance so they could discuss things with slightly more privacy. Roddy, seeing that they were coming his way, backed up to let them enter and then stood off to the side to see where they would decide to sit. Nick chose a table, situated in a corner which was tucked out of the mainstream of potential traffic. Holly waved to the one person who had chosen to stick around, a klaustreich by the name of Craig who was the cook at the café, and then sat down in a chair across from Nick.

 

Nick waited until Hank joined them, sitting down to Nick’s right and keeping an eye on the door, before he started to explain.

 

“Those murders were committed by another grimm,” he said, still keeping his voice in a whisper just in case. He paused to wonder how much detail he should reveal. But these two were kids and they didn’t need to be dragged into Nick’s personal drama any more than they already were. “Look, it’s complicated but the bottom line is you guys need to be careful until we can catch this guy.”

 

“’Be careful’,” Roddy quoted with a scoff. “How profound.”

 

“Shut it, Roddy,” Holly bit back. “He’s only trying to help.”

 

“I don’t know about you but I’ve had as much of his ‘help’ as I can get.”

 

Holly’s answer was to growl at the reinigen which, while it didn’t necessarily make him jump in fear, it did shut him up. He remained as surly as ever, however, and he continued to glare across the table at Nick.

 

If it had been any other situation, Nick would have born with Roddy’s attitude a lot better. But the fact of the matter was that he was just not forgiving today. It just wasn’t the day for it. His life had gone to hell and he wasn’t in the mood to take any shit from the reinigen.

 

“Look, I get that you don’t like the police, or grimms, but deal with it. Because right now we are the _only_ ones standing between you and the other grimm. And believe me, he _will_ kill you if he gets even a second alone with you. Now if you think you can handle him on your own, then I’ll gladly stand aside because I have better things to do than stand around trying to protect someone who doesn’t want it.”

 

“Geez, who put a stick up your ass?” Roddy asked, uncomfortable with the anger Nick was displaying.

 

It had taken all of Nick’s control not to slap the kid across the face. Aunt Marie had done that a couple times to him whenever he’d gotten mouthy but it wasn’t until now that he understood why. Still, the reminder of what Sergio had done choked him, briefly cutting off his air supply and bringing tears to his eyes.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, not really wanting to get into it. “What _does_ matter is that you two stay safe so that I don’t have to worry about you.”

 

Holly, probably sensing what Nick was feeling, reached out and placed her hand over his. She gave it a squeeze and then proceeded to hold on tightly.

 

“What a shock, you want us to do something to help _you_.” This time Holly responded by smacking the kid upside the head. “Ow,” he complained. “What was that for?”

 

“Because you don’t know when to shut up,” she answered. When she looked back at Nick, her expression was softer, more filled with concern. “What do you need me to do?”

 

“Do you have any wesen friends that would help you both? Some that I don’t know about?”

 

“Why can’t we just go to Monroe’s?” Roddy asked. He looked unhappy about the idea that he would have to stay with strangers and sounded like he was trying to find a way out of it.

 

“Because the grimm will track you down there, it’ll be too easy,” Nick answered. He didn’t bother trying to hide the frustration in his voice, or the tiredness. Roddy’s inability to follow the conversation, or care about it, was starting to grate on Nick’s already thinned patience. “It needs to be a place that has no connection to me whatsoever.”

 

“They can stay with me.” Craig’s deep voice surprised all of them except for Hank who hadn’t been paying any sort of attention to what they were saying and was instead focused on their surroundings.

 

Nick looked up at the big, burly black man and he had a moment of doubt. “You and Holly work together, Craig, it would be all too easy for Sergio to make the connection and come looking.” He left out the part about his worry about involving the klaustreich since he knew it would be pointless.

 

Ever since Holly had gotten the job, Nick had spent time getting to know the people that she worked with. Most of them were harmless but Craig had given him misgivings. It had taken a while but Nick had eventually gotten to know Craig. Unlike most klaustreich’s, Craig wasn’t a bully or uneven-tempered. He wasn’t the type that Nick would want to come up against in a dark alley, to be sure, but he was definitely an abnormality among his kind – much like Nick was.

 

“They’ll be safe,” Craig assured in his usual dauntlessly faithful way.

 

Figuring that, between Holly and Craig, Sergio might not be willing to chance going after Roddy, Nick assented with a nod. He still had doubts about it but he also knew there was little chance of them finding a safer place to hide.

 

“You should leave as soon as possible,” he told the three of them. “I doubt he’ll try again today but it’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

 

Nick didn’t wait for them to speak. He didn’t want to hear any more questions, or any more plans that they might have or make. With a sideways look at Hank, they both stood up to leave.

 

“Nick?” Holly said, stopping him just as his hand touched the handle. He turned around to look at her. “Be safe,” she said, offering a small smile as she did so.

 

It amazed him how well this girl had bloomed into a young woman. It amazed him even more to consider that she had chosen to adopt him as a part of her family, coming to think of him as an older brother. Sure, there had been a time when she had seen him as nothing more than a grimm. But after he had helped her whilst in the woods and then afterwards, that prejudice had gone out the window.

 

What surprised him even more was that he had grown to think of her as a younger sister. Sometime within the past few months they had become more than friends. They had become family.

 

And family was worth protecting.

 

**TBC**


	33. Chapter 33

Sean was restless. He had been feeling a multitude of things coming from Nick’s portion of the bond ever since he had gotten the call from Juliette that morning and they were starting to drive him crazy.

 

First there had been a very profound surge of worry and fear. It made sense given that Sergio had located Nick’s recent ex-girlfriend and had kept Nick on the phone just for kicks. Then there had been nothing but fear and sheer amount of it had had Sean’s skin crawling. He had waited all of five minutes after Nick had left his office before Sean had decided to take Wu and head over to Ms. Silverton’s apartment, barely beating Nick and Hank there. Nick had looked pale as he’d climbed out of the car and it was no surprise at all when he’d denied staying outside and had strode right past them and into the building. From then on things had been an emotional blur for Sean as his main focus had been on Nick who had radiated nothing but pain and devastation and anger from the moment he’d spotted the blood-soaked carpet.

 

Now that Nick had had time to process it all, the feelings weren’t quite as strong but they _were_ still prevalent. The pain hadn’t receded at all but worry had briefly spiked through the bond, jabbing at Sean like a sewing needle wanting some attention. Instead of reacting to it, Sean waited to see what would become of it and when it ceased to exist, and instead rage replaced it, Sean felt himself calm a little and let things be. He had promised to look in on Nick later, after all, and he was just about ready to act on that promise.

 

But first he had some actual police captain work to do. It was mainly dodging the press as well as the Mayor’s office – both of whom were wondering when they police were going to catch this gruesome serial killer and how they were planning to do it – but there was also some case files that needed to be signed off on as well as a couple overtime approvals that needed to be made.

 

Once finished with the more mundane aspects of his job, Sean quickly packed up and left. He knew that Wu and some of the other officers were aware, on some level, of his forming relationship with Nick and he was sure that they planned on asking him how Nick was doing. It was ridiculous, of course, because they all knew that Nick was doing terribly but as it was the main way that the kerhseite’s showed their concern for one another, it was simply what they were going to do.

 

He slipped out, making sure that he wasn’t noticed, and then headed for his SUV. His phone beeped to alert him to a new text message and he smirked when he saw Hank’s text, telling him that Nick had decided that he did not need anyone babysitting him and that he was fully able to sleep at home for the night. Evidently Hank had surrendered without a fight in order to avoid a right hook which Nick had looked about two seconds from giving.

 

So instead of heading over to the blutbad’s to check on Nick, Sean headed to Nick’s house.

 

The house was well-lit and warm looking, even in the gloomy December evening. The clouds above, he noticed, were promising snow within the next couple of days, but until then they had decided to completely take over the sky so that it looked white in the night rather than the unending blackness.

 

For a minute Sean chose to simply sit in his truck. He wanted to try and get a sense for where Nick was at emotionally before he went in. It would make things easier on the both of them, especially if Nick was spoiling for a fight, and it would allow him to know in what manner Sean should treat the grimm. He wasn’t above pretending like nothing had happened, if need be, but he also didn’t mind attempting to provide his grimm with some comfort.

 

Relaxing his mind, Sean focused on the bond. Through it he connected to Nick on a more personal level. He knew the precise moment when Nick noticed the connection because he felt the grimm start and become defensive. When he realized that it was only Sean, Nick relaxed and the bond seem to hum in a relieved sigh. Smiling, Sean sent a happy little tune but then pushed through the initial wall and delved deeper. As expected, just under the surface, Nick was in turmoil. His anger was like red-hot lava lashing at Sean’s mind, though the regnant knew that it wasn’t aimed at him, and it had Sean pulling back just a little so that he could adjust. Once he’d built up enough of a barrier so that the fury wouldn’t hurt him, he dove in again. Simmering just beneath the lava was a storm of tears which descended onto a rolling ocean of pain.

 

Satisfied that he had enough to go on, Sean gently withdrew. The change in temperatures of Nick’s emotions left him shaking a little and he could feel Nick’s concern at his sudden change in health sing through the bond in a staccato note. He got out of the car smiling, happy to know that, on some level, Nick cared about him. 

 

As Sean got out he heard the dog, Kylie, barking and he just rolled his eyes at her. It felt as though the wind had waited precisely for him to exit before it began to blow because blow it did, driving into him with biting force. He pulled his coat closer and turned up the collar to protect against the cold, grateful when he got close enough to the house for it to provide a shield.

 

Nick opened the door just as he was about to knock. He looked dull, tired, and his eyes were red. No doubt he had been crying whilst in the privacy and safety of his own home. Now that Sean was here, Nick probably wouldn’t let himself have that release and it annoyed Sean to think that Nick felt that he had to be so strong and stoic around him.

 

“What? No dinner,” Nick said as he stepped back to allow Sean entrance.

 

“I didn’t think you’d be hungry,” Sean answered, holding up a bottle of whiskey instead. “Besides, I thought you could use something stronger than food.”

 

Nick only nodded as he closed the door and headed for the kitchen. The dog, Kylie, stood there for a minute longer to stare at Sean before she turned to follow Nick. Sean noticed that she wasn’t walking with her usual ease and an idea came to his mind, though he wasn’t planning on voicing it to Nick tonight. Right now the man needed comfort, not a reminder.

 

The clinking of glass drew Sean to the kitchen where Nick was grabbing a couple of glasses for their whiskey. It was then that Sean smelled the pain on Nick but while physical pain smelled like sulfur, emotional pain smelled more like Sean’s childhood bedroom where he’d spent more than a few nights curled in a ball, crying himself to sleep.

 

The regnant within him was conflicted on what to do. Sean could tell that it wanted to roar with rage and hunt down the damned grimm who had caused it, tear him to pieces, and then repeat the process with Pierre. On the other hand, it wanted to whine and curl protectively around Nick and nuzzle the grimm close.

 

Sean decided that between the two, the latter was not only the better option but it was the most needed right now. So he stepped closer to Nick and reached out to lay a hand on top of Nick’s. His fingers curled around Nick’s, his fingerpads touching the inside of the cool glasses, and he gave the hand (which, he was unhappy to note, was shaking) a squeeze.

 

“Come,” he quietly bid before he stepped away, taking Nick’s hand and thus pulling Nick along with him as he left the kitchen.

 

Nick didn’t argue. Didn’t even fight, and it was that more than anything that told Sean that he’d made the right decision. Nick was a strong man. Not just physically, but emotionally. He’d learned from early on that he couldn’t always depend on someone else and since Marie was, no doubt, always off fighting other wesen, Nick had grown up more independent than a young teenager had any right to be. As a result, he had trouble asking for help or leaning on anyone until it became absolutely necessary. How the blutbad had managed to get under Nick’s defenses, Sean didn’t know, but he was hoping to be able to do the same in time.

 

At first Sean couldn’t decide where it was that he was going. His initial instinct had been to go to the couch and cuddle with Nick there, but the more he looked at it, the more he knew that it would grow uncomfortable sooner or later for the both of them. So, instead, he headed upstairs to Nick’s bedroom, figuring that the familiar smells would help to comfort Nick that much more.

 

Nick numbly followed and Kylie followed him. Since the dog wasn’t barking at Sean, he assumed that she approved of what he was doing and he felt what little hesitation he might have had dissipate.

 

“Get changed,” Sean said, the words sounding more of a command than a suggestion, as he waited for Kylie to join and then closed the bedroom door behind them.

 

The dog immediately went to the foot of the bed, where a patch of rug lay, and laid down on it, watching her chosen master out of the corner of her eye. Sean walked around her to the corner of the bedroom where an armchair sat and began to dress down to his tee shirt and boxers. He laid his clothes upon the chair in such a way so that they wouldn’t wrinkle too badly overnight, and then he turned around to find Nick simply watching him.

 

Nick, he noted, had done as he’d said and changed out of his clothes and now stood in a tee shirt and sweatpants. But the signs that Sean noticed more in Nick were the more subtle ones. His chest was heaving with what Sean guessed was emotion and he could see the pulse in Nick’s neck quickly thumping, driving his breathing.

 

“Oh Nick,” Sean sighed, his heart aching. He could tell that it was taking everything that Nick had not to fall to pieces and he once again wished that he could break through Nick’s barriers.

 

As though all it took were those two words, Nick seemed to shatter. His breathing became ragged and tears spilled out of his eyes. Since it seemed that Nick was barely remaining upright, Sean stepped forward, making sure to step over the dog on the floor, and wrapped his arms around him.

 

He held the shaking form of the grimm until he could feel nick’s legs begin to lose their strength. Not surprisingly Nick had more strength than most for if any other person – wesen or not – had been through what Nick had been through, they would have collapsed under the weight of all that grief. Nick held out longer than most, though, but eventually he did give in.

 

“Come on,” Sean said as he pulled away. He gestured his head towards the bed but Nick only looked blandly at it. “You need to rest,” Sean added, hoping that spelling it out would somehow get Nick moving.

 

“Will it help?” he asked with no sign of emotion in his voice.

 

Actually, no, that wasn’t true, Sean amended. Nick _did_ have an emotion in there, it just wasn’t one that Sean ever wanted to hear coming from his grimm. He sounded despondent. And while Sean understood, he also knew that, yes, this was a definite blow, but Nick could and _would_ recover and move on. But now was not the time to tell him that.

 

“It won’t change anything, no,” Sean admitted bluntly. Given that he’d spent the day with the blutbad and fuchsbau, Nick had probably had more than enough coddling. “But given time, it will help.” He paused and then added, “Besides, it wouldn’t do you any good to go after Sergio if you’re over-exausted.”

 

Nick gave a sardonic smile but he still didn’t look like he planned on moving any time soon.

 

Sean sighed, feeling more than a little exasperated, and then, in one swift motion, picked Nick up and carried him to the bed. He probably could have settled with simply pushing Nick over to the bed but this was far more fun. At least this way he got to feel Nick against him again.

 

He waited until he saw Nick practically melt into the mattress before he walked around the bed and climbed on top. To his very great surprise and pleasure, Nick curled into him. Sean had no compulsions in wrapping his arms around the grimm, about making him feel protected and safe because as far as Sean was concerned he was.

 

It wasn’t long before he felt Nick shaking again and his shirt began to stick to his chest. Evidently Nick had started crying again. Sean merely pulled him in closer, more than willing to let him release his grief as he did so. He kept holding on, even after Nick fallen asleep, content to simply listen to Nick’s breathing and feel Nick’s heart as his beat against Sean’s chest.

 

A rustle at the foot of the bed drew Sean’s attention to the dog who now sat upright and was staring fixedly at him. The sumnjiv remained in her wesen form, even though she _had_ to know that Sean knew exactly what she was. She eyed him without fear or challenge, as though she were simply trying to judge his worthiness. Whether it was his worthiness in reference to Nick or herself Sean didn’t know and nor did he care. Let the sumnjiv keep her secrets; Sean would prove himself to her sooner or later. It was getting Nick to trust him that mattered to him.

 

As evening transpired into late night, Sean debated exactly _how_ he was going to go about getting Nick’s trust. He already knew that it wasn’t going to be easy, but he just hoped that it wasn’t going to take too much time since he highly doubted that they had that much to begin with.

 

Sean was just beginning to fall asleep when his phone started ringing. It was quieted by his coat and clothes, but in the still silence of the room it sounded like a fog horn. Sean made sure to extract himself as carefully as possible from Nick, not wanting to wake the grimm up, before he rolled over the side of the bed and retrieved his phone.

 

As was his habit, he checked the caller ID but since it came up _Private Caller_ again, it didn’t really help. “Hello?”

 

 _“Hello little brother.”_ Justine’s voice was deep, British-sounding, and warm. Sean could hear the smile that was on her face through it and it provoked a smile of his own. _“How are you?”_

 

After casting another glance at Nick’s sleeping form to make sure that all was well in that area, Sean slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him to muffle the sound of his voice.

 

“I’m well, how about you?” He wasn’t meaning to sound cold and unconcerned but he was more curious as why she was calling him now. It seemed more than a coincidence.

 

 _“I’m well as well,”_ she said, her voice now taking on a bored tone. _“Nothing really ever changes here, you know. But I hear that you have annoyed our dear little brother. You should know better than to do that. After all, what Pierre wants, Father is sure to give him.”_

That was true enough. There had been a time when Sean had been jealous of Pierre’s bond with their father. It had lasted a long while, actually, until Sean had grown up and seen what kind of man his father truly was. Then all he’d felt was disgust and hatred towards the both of them. They both believed that brute force and fear was the way to rule. And while Sean knew that there was definitely a time and place for both, he also knew that that wasn’t the best way to go about it. Diplomacy got you so much farther than violence. The latter should only be used when the occasion called for it.

 

“You know Pierre,” he responded boredly. “He likes to throw tantrums when he doesn’t get his way.”

 

_“Yes, but this time, it seems, you have dragged someone else into the fray with you. Tell me, how is the dear grimm doing? The last I heard, he’d gotten quite the wallop from his mother.”_

“Is that who told you all this?”

 

 _“Among other things, yes.”_ There was no apology in her voice even though she knew how Sean felt about Kelly. In her mind, she’d done nothing wrong. _“Amazingly, mama grimm was concerned for her son and she came to me for help.”_

“Does Pierre know about this?” Sean asked, surprised and not surprised that Kelly had gone to his sister for help. They certainly didn’t have a close relationship, but Kelly did know that if anyone could help Nick, either in reference to Sean or Pierre, it was Justine.

 

Justine made a small snort. _“You know our brother,”_ she said dismissively. _“He has a new toy to play with. I doubt very much that he even knows where the old one is.”_

“So Father sent her to work for you?” Again, Sean was surprised. Their father actually liked Kelly and appreciated the work she did for him. He wouldn’t send her away lightly.

 

 _“Don’t be silly, Sean, you know that would never happen,”_ was her reprimand. She sounded a little annoyed, though Sean didn’t know why. She had never really expressed in interest in having a grimm work for her and she had, in fact, seemed to loathe it when she’d lived at home. _“No, I suspect that I was simply a pit-stop on her way to wherever it was that she was truly going. But you didn’t answer my question. How is the grimm?”_

Sean’s eyes strayed to the door as though to check on Nick. “He’s had a rough day but he’ll be fine.”

 

 _“I’m sure he will,”_ she said with a sly note in her voice. _“With you at his side, I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”_

“Why would I be at his side?” Sean asked, choosing to fake ignorance rather than admit anything outright.

 

 _“Come, Sean, do you seriously believe that Kelly wouldn’t tell me that you’ve_ mated _with the grimm?”_ Her tone was condescending and a reprimand in one and Sean gritted his teeth against his annoyance. He loved his sister, he truly did, but like most sisters, she _did_ have the habit of getting on his nerves rather quickly if she wanted to. _“Tell me,”_ she said, her curiosity calming his ire a little. _“What is it like? Mating with a grimm, that is?”_

“It’s like hitting your head against a brick wall every day.” Now it was Sean’s turn to be wry. He was more frustrated than he’d like by Nick’s absolute refusal to give in and he couldn’t help but express it with his sister.

 

Justine laughed at him, her voice thick and her chuckle long. _“I can imagine,”_ she said when she’ finished. _“Kelly said that her son was bound to be rather stubborn but that he would succumb eventually. She did have some advice that she wanted me to pass on, if you’d like to hear it?”_

No, in fact Sean _did not_ want to hear it. He’d had enough of advice lately as it was. “Don’t tell me,” he said dryly. “Go slow.”

 

 _“Something like that, yes. We both know how you like to dive right in to things, and we both also know that this time won’t be any exception. Your hearts have already decided that they want one another and while you have no trouble with that, I’m sure your grimm does.”_ There was a pause, as though a thought had occurred to her, and then she asked, _“When did this start?”_

“While he was dating his recently-deceased girlfriend.” Sean knew and understood that that was why Nick was having trouble coming to terms with it all. He didn’t like the idea that he had, in some way, been unfaithful to Juliette. The trouble with that was that since Nick hadn’t acted on it, he really hadn’t. He’d remained by her while simultaneously unconsciously fighting his feelings for Sean at the same time.

 

 _“Don’t tell me, Pierre is the reason that she is no longer alive,”_ Justine deadpanned, her voice betraying no emotion whatsoever.

 

“Technically it was his new pet, Sergio, but yes, it was under Pierre’s instructions.”

 

 _“And I’ll just bet that Sergio did more than simply kill the girl,”_ she drawled, adding on a snort at the end. _“That grimm is worse than an animal. I honestly don’t know why Pierre keeps him around.”_

Honestly, if Sean could see Pierre mating with anyone, he could see it being with Sergio. The pair were very alike in their tastes and viewpoints. They both had an extreme fondness for cruelty and they both believed that anything that wasn’t like them was less and unworthy of the life they’d been given.

 

But there was no point in saying that out loud. Justine knew that as well as he did.

 

There was a pause in which no one said anything. From within the bedroom, Sean could hear Nick begin to toss and turn, no doubt in the throes of a nightmare, and he was focused on that while Justine was focused on God only knows what. She did, at length, break through the silence with, _“Do you need my help?”_

Sean smirked. She was smart enough not to ask if he wanted it because she knew that he would have said no to that. But whether or not he needed it was one question that he was probably going to answer truthfully. Normally he didn’t want her getting involved in his private affairs but this time, he realized that he could use an impartial third-party. She could and would be the voice of reason when his heart demanded he do something irrational.

 

“Won’t you miss Argentina?” he asked with as much of an affirmative as he could muster.

 

 _“It’ll be good for me to get away for a while,”_ she answered with, no doubt, a shrug. _“My protectorate is rather quiet these days and it would be good to see you again.”_

Sean smiled at this. It would be genuinely good to see her again, too, he had to admit. “Should I get the guest bedroom ready or would you prefer to stay at the Delux?”

 

_“The Delux will be fine, Sean. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your home. You might have need of it.”_

He knew what she was thinking and he sighed. “I highly doubt there’ll be much use for it any time soon, Justine.”

 

 _“Is your grimm fighting you that much?”_ She sounded shocked. _“That settles it, I’m afraid,”_ she said on a sigh. _“I really must meet him now. After all, anyone who could abstain from you for so long is someone worth traveling to Portland for.”_

Sean chuckled but waited until he was done before he responded. “Let me know when your flight gets in and I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

 

_“Bring the grimm with you, if you can.”_

“Goodbye Justine.”

 

Her rich laugh echoed through the phone before he disconnected the line. She did enjoy teasing him, didn’t she? Well it was fair. He would do the same if their positions were reversed.

 

After answering his body’s needs, Sean crept back into the bedroom. Kylie whined at his entrance. She could sense Nick’s distress and seemed to know that she couldn’t do anything to soothe it. Sean smiled at her confidence in him and patted her on the head before he climbed back in bed and surrounded Nick once again.

 

Nick was once again shaking, albeit less so than when he had been awake, and his breathing was erratic. Whatever nightmare he was living, it was distressing him to the point of hyperventilation. Since he definitely couldn’t sing, Sean sent a calming lullaby through their bond, hoping that it would let Nick know that he was safe and that Sean was there. It helped only marginally, but at this point Sean knew that was all it would do.

 

As his eyelids began to droop, Sean made sure to remain holding on to Nick as tightly as possible, worried that he would disappear entirely if he didn’t.

 

**oOo**

Nick awoke comfortable and warm. He lay on his side facing the doorway and the heat he felt came from behind him. The heart beating against his shoulder blade told him that there was a body behind him, which explained the arm that was wrapped around his waist. Someone’s breath blew across his neck. It mildly tickled and made him squirm a little to get away from it. The arm around his waist tightened, as though stopping him from going anywhere, but the person behind him didn’t stir.

 

For a moment Nick simply lay there. He kept waiting for the memories of yesterday to fade like the dream that he had been sure that it was but when they remained vivid, Nick sighed and his heart sank. Like many who were related to victims of a violent death, Nick couldn’t believe that Juliette was gone. What was worse was that she wouldn’t have been in any danger if it hadn’t been for him. Sergio only went after her because of her connection with Nick and that guilt was bound to stay with him for the rest of his life. He now realized that Aunt Marie had been right – he should have left Juliette the moment he had found out that he was a grimm and never looked back.

 

With that cheery thought echoing through his brain, Nick decided that he wasn’t ready to face the world just yet. Closing his eyes, Nick settled in against the body that curled against him, letting its presence comfort and protect him from the reality that he couldn’t bring himself to admit existed.

 

**oOo**

When Nick woke for the second time, nothing had really changed. The warm body and comforting arm was still there, encircling him, and Juliette was still dead because of him.

 

“You can’t blame yourself for this, Nick,” Sean’s voice rumbled behind him.

 

Although Nick knew, at least on some level of consciousness, that it was Sean who held him, he still jumped when he heard the man speak. Not only hadn’t he thought that Sean was awake, but he hadn’t realized that Sean could tell what he was thinking.

 

Breaking out of the embrace, Nick flattened his back on the bed to look up at the ceiling. It was easier than having to face whatever expression that may lie in Sean’s eyes.

 

Before Nick had become a grimm, Sean’s gaze usually held a distant concern, much like what he would have held for any under his command at the precinct. But then his grimm inheritance had kicked in and the expression had changed. While Nick hadn’t been aware of it at the time, he could now see, in hindsight, how Sean had gone from regarding him as a subordinate to something far more interesting and necessary. His gaze hadn’t been scheming, per se, but it had been close. Then, slowly, the look had changed again, regarding Nick as something infinitely more dear.

 

Deciding to take a chance, Nick sneaked a look to his left and found Sean watching him. There was a levelness in Sean’s posture tat said he was merely being patient with Nick but it was in the hazel eyes that Nick saw how he truly felt. Concern and compassion dulled the color a bit but they were there, shining out at him. He was comforted by this display for some reason. It made him want to curl back into Sean’s arms and attempt to forget the world again.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sean said, continuing his thought when he figured out that Nick wasn’t going to respond.

 

“Yeah it was,” Nick argued, his voice gruff from disuse and tears. One slipped down the side of his face before coming to rest on his pillow and soaking into the linen pillowcase. Nick left the trail alone, knowing that more were to follow. The pain he felt when he thought of Juliette, of how things had gone for her in the past month, and how she had died, was too much for him to conceal for long. He just didn’t have the strength anymore to hold back the tears and anguish. “If I had just broken up with her when all this had started, she never would have been killed.”

 

“I’m guessing Marie told you to do that,” Sean said wryly.

 

Nick didn’t respond. He could tell by Sean’s tone that he already knew that she had. Instead, more tears fell out of his eyes and Nick found himself fighting the urge to curl into a protective ball and cry into his pillow. No matter what Sean said, Nick knew that it was, at least in some part, his fault that Juliette was dead. Nothing would change that fact.

 

He flinched when a hand brushed against the side of his face, wiping the tears on the side away. He hadn’t expected Sean to touch him and so had been caught unawares when he had. When the hand reached across him to clear the tears from the other side of his face, Nick leaned into the touch, letting it soothe him ever so slightly.

 

“Whether your aunt was correct is irrelevant,” Sean said, his words harsh though his tone was not. “This didn’t happen because you were a grimm. This happened because of me.”

 

This got Nick’s attention. The tears slowed to a gentle crawl as he turned his head to look, confusedly, at his mate. Although he was still struggling with the fact that Sean _was_ his mate, Nick no longer denied it. His feelings towards the regnant were growing. Not exponentially, like one would think, but in small increments, like his heart was taking its time introducing his brain to the idea.

 

“My brother, Pierre, is going after you to get to me.” Sean sat up, as though he was prepared to leave if it was needed, but he made sure to keep eye contact with Nick as he continued. “My youngest brother, Pierre, is a spoiled brat. Whatever he wants, my father makes sure that he gets. He’s never had any trouble getting anything in his entire life. The fact that Kelly’s sister and son have fought him for so long in reference to the key has made him angry, but he’s also been the type to enjoy the cat-and-mouse games so having to constantly chase and attack you for it was of little concern to him.”

 

Now Nick, too, sat up. This didn’t seem to be the type of conversation that one had while laying down; it _definitely_ wasn’t pillow talk. He almost asked _why_ Pierre was going after him but he held his tongue. Something in the way Sean had trailed off said that he wasn’t done explaining.

 

“When Pierre found out that I had a grimm in my protectorate, he was simply amused. But when you killed his reapers and showed your strength, he began to take an interest in you. But when he found out that _I_ was interested in you, things changed for him.” He paused, no doubt to organize his thoughts, and then he continued. “The night of the reaper attack, after I had made sure that you would be alright, I went to see an acquaintance of mine. Now, something I had said or done must have convinced him that I had feelings for you far beyond what the Guardian of Portland would have for a grimm under his protection, because it wasn’t long after that that all this had started.”

 

Nick listened attentively, wanting to understand more about this brother that seems intent on wrecking Nick’s life. As he listened, he noticed that Sean was slowly growing more and more agitated and angry. When he’d finished, Nick watched as the human face seemed to fade out and the wesen one beneath it came out. The eyes elongated and became red, obviously reflecting Sean’s inner fury. The face formed into a longer one with a snout full of teeth which were now bared in a silent snarl.

 

As soon as it had happened, it ended. Nick had only been able to distinguish it all from the normal face before Sean’s human face appeared, though there was still the slightest hint of red in his eyes. It was an interesting mix, the hazel and blood-red, Nick thought. From his eyes, Nick’s gaze flickered down to Sean’s mouth which, while stern, also looked relatively kissable.

 

“Who was the acquaintance?” he asked in an attempt to distract himself from his inappropriately timed thoughts and slow-burning desires. Maybe beating the crap out of this unknown person would make him feel slightly better about Juliette’s fate. He doubted it but it couldn’t hurt to try.

 

Kylie barked at him then, seeming to lecture him for his idea. Sean smirked at her and then, when he had refocused back on Nick, nodded his head in her direction. “I agree with the dog,” he said. “You don’t need to know my informant’s name. Chances are, he’s left the country already.”

 

Nick felt the brief spark he’d felt at the idea die. Right now he was in the mood to beat on someone and if it couldn’t be Sergio or Sean’s brother, he had at least hoped it could have been the snitch. It took a moment but he soon realized that Sean was watching him curiously. When the regnant noticed that Nick had noticed, he smiled.

 

“If you want a fight, I know someone who will be glad to give you one,” he said, somewhat cryptically.

 

“You would help me fight?” Nick asked although he wondered who he would be up against.

 

“Well not me, me, but yes. I think it would be good for you to get a little bit more training in before you attempt to take down Sergio.”

 

“Wait,” Nick said so that he could allow his brain to catch up. “You want me to fight you.”

 

Again the smirk was back and Nick suddenly had the desire to knock it off the other man’s face. “Sort of,” he said, hinting that it wouldn’t be the human version of him.

 

The idea intrigued Nick. He’d only seen Sean in partial woge, and more than once if earlier was an indication. He had fought against Monroe, of course, but there had always been a restraint in the blutbad’s tactics. Nick had tried to assure his friend that he wasn’t going to do any serious damage but still, Monroe had held back. Looking at Sean, at the glee in his now orange-green eyes, Nick knew that the regnant would hold nothing back.

 

He reigned in his enthusiasm for the idea, however, remembering how close Sergio was getting, Nick honestly wasn’t sure if he had time to train with Sean before the other, more vicious, grimm attacked again and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to take the chance.

 

Sean’s gaze soon turned curious. “Has something happened with Sergio lately? Besides, Juliette, of course.”

 

Nick felt a pang strike his heart at the mention of Juliette but he swallowed it down, burying for another time when he could dwell on it. “Yeah, he went after Roddy Geiger and Holly Clark yesterday afternoon.”

 

“And they are two wesen that you’ve helped?”

 

“Sort of,” Nick answered. “Holly more so than Roddy, though that was more Monroe than me.”

 

“I’m not sure Holly would agree,” Sean placated, though he was genuine. “So, aside from Juliette, he’s still following your mother’s pattern?”

 

Now Nick got off the bed. He needed to burn off the energy from earlier and so he paced. “Yeah, except that I don’t think he is,” he answered. His hands settled onto his hips as his frustration began to mount.

 

Sean followed Nick off the bed, now standing on the opposite side of it with his arms crossed over his chest. “You think he’s toying with you,” he said, making it sound like a statement and not a question. He sighed, lowering his arms, and walked over to put on his clothes. “He probably is,” he admitted as he belted his pants on. His shirt came next, his fingers dexterously buttoning it as he continued. “While Sergio is technically a grimm, he enjoys playing with his prey like a Muvais Dente. He knows that you’re on to him and that you will, eventually, get closer so he’s trying to throw you off his scent.”

 

“Yeah but beyond the pattern, I don’t even know what his scent is,” Nick argued back, mirroring Sean and getting dressed in fresh clothes. He chose a pair of dark jeans, tee shirt, and a light blue sweater to help with the cold outside. “I mean, I can guess who his next target will be but beyond that, it’s not like I know where he’s staying or how to locate him.”

 

“True, but Sergio is careful. If he even _thinks_ that you’re getting close, he’ll change his tactics to try and throw you off.”

 

Together, they went downstairs and to the kitchen where Nick proceeded to brew some strong coffee. On a day like today, he would need it strong in order to get him moving; he could still feel his grief trying to pull him back down into nothingness. While he did that, Sean leaned against the counter, evidently content not to make or eat anything for breakfast. Knowing that forcing his stomach to hold onto the coffee was pushing it, Nick didn’t even bother with toast or anything. Instead, he went to the fridge and pulled out some milk for cream (in case Sean wanted it) and two mugs.

 

“Well he’s done a fantastic job of that so far,” Nick replied sardonically as he reached up for the cups and placed them on the counter next to the coffee pot.

 

“Maybe,” Sean said with a smirk in his voice. How the man managed to even put it into his voice, Nick didn’t know, but he scowled at the coffee pot in annoyance. “Think, Nick. If you were Sergio, what would you do?”

 

Nick wanted to retort that he wasn’t a sadist like Sergio but he bit his tongue. Sean was only trying to help, trying to make him think, as well as distract him from what had happened yesterday. So instead, he tried to put himself into Sergio’s shoes and try and think of what he would do if someone were nipping at his heels.

 

At first it had been hard. As he’d said, he wasn’t a sadist and he didn’t enjoy torturing or hurting people. So the idea of what Sergio might do next was a bit foreign to him. But the more he thought about Sergio, the more his thoughts turned to the pattern. The stupid pattern that his mom had begun and hadn’t finished.

 

She had gone after all his old cases, starting with the second wesen family that he had helped and moving forward from there. Both his mom _and_ Sergio had ignored his first case with a wesen and his fifteenth wesen case, however, and he knew why. He knew that they wanted to save both Monroe and Rosalee for a special occasion, for when things were coming to a head.

 

As Nick recounted his previous cases, he realized with a sinking heart exactly how many had ended with the wesen dead or in prison. Now, granted, those that were in prison sure as hell deserved it, but some that had died, hadn’t. Doubt about his good intentions began to creep in but his mind saved him.

 

While he’d been thinking, he had poured the coffee and handed one cup to Sean before taking one for himself. He’d idly stirred sugar into his cup while his mind had roamed and wandered. Now that it had come to a conclusion, he dropped the cup in alarm and realization. It shattered once it hit the floor, spraying scalding hot coffee over his bare feet, which he didn’t feel.

 

“He’s going after Monroe.”

 

**TBC**


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I realize that Nick’s house is technically a two bedroom house but I’ve decided to make it larger just because I want to.
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> Hope you enjoy!
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> M

Sergio watched the blutbad as it went about its day. Truth be told, this was one of the most boring blutbadden that he had ever followed but he did his job and made sure to take special interest in whom it interacted with. Mostly it seemed to spend its days either at this house or at some spice shop with a fuchsbau. Every once in a while, the grimm would show up, or call perhaps, but those moments appeared to be rare.

 

Good. That was going to make taking it so much easier. That was, of course, until the grimm had shown up at the blutbad’s house. Sergio could sense the urgency in the younger grimm but to his credit, the man moved as though it were just another day.

 

With nary a sound, Sergio left the tree copse in which he stood and went to his car. It was time to move on to his next victim.

 

**oOo**

Pulling up alongside Monroe’s curb, Nick shut his Toyota off and checked the surroundings for signs that something was wrong. He sighed when he found none and opened the door to get out.

 

After realizing what it was the Sergio had planned, Nick had spent the next couple hours, calling both Monroe and Rosalee to warn them of Sergio’s intent and to beg them to be careful and watch their backs. After being assured that they would, Nick had hung up and proceeded to pace throughout the house. It hadn’t taken long for Sean to get thoroughly annoyed with that, however, and had attempted to distract him with whatever he could think of. He had tried the idea of training but when Nick had shaken his head against it, he had moved on to the possibility of inviting Monroe, Rosalee, and Hank over for a Christmas dinner.

 

The idea had, at first, been rejected. Nick hadn’t been in the mood for company or Christmas but the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d warmed to it. All the memories he had in the house were with Juliette, making staying in the house very painful as well as a small form of torture. Deciding that it would be good to make new memories with his friends, Nick had eventually given in. He’d immediately asked if Sean planned on being there and when he’d discovered that he had, Nick had smiled. Having Sean there for him the night before had been unexpected but welcome and it had helped Nick to feel a little closer to the regnant.

 

Once that had been settled, Nick had proceeded to call everyone back and ask them to dinner. They had all readily accepted, with some mentions of hopes that it didn’t turn out like Thanksgiving had, and then all that had been left to do was buy the things needed for the dinner. As soon as Nick had hung up, however, Sean had already assured him that he’d take care of the food and had bid him to go upstairs and get some more rest.

 

This morning, Monroe had called saying that his car wouldn’t start. Nick had had an ominous feeling and so had offered to come and pick the blutbad up. Snow had been falling down in sheets ever since last night and it was slowly starting to fill the streets to the point where the plows would be needed. He judged that by the evening, the streets would be completely covered. The same idea had occurred to both Monroe and Rosalee, whom were at Monroe’s house together. They had called him to ask if they should cancel their plans. It was obvious that they didn’t truly want to (and Hank didn’t either) and so Nick had said that if all else fails, they could stay in one of two guest bedrooms.

 

So now here he stood, watching the snow fall from Monroe’s front porch. After taking a moment to listen to the quiet, Nick knocked on the door, smiling when he heard Christmas music coming from inside the house. Apparently Monroe was in the mood from some Christmas cheer.

 

As it turned out, it went _way_ past Christmas cheer. When Monroe opened the door, Nick’s jaw dropped. The entire inside of Monroe’s house looked like the Christmas section at Macy’s had thrown up all over it, although he could see signs of antiques in amongst the decorations and tinsel. Nick’s mouth remained open slightly as his eyes took it all in, including the Santa hat on top of Monroe’s head.

 

“Nick!” Monroe cried, looking happy to see him.

 

“Uh, trick or treat?” Nick joked. Not only was Monroe wearing the hat, but he also had on the full-on Santa suit.  Monroe rolled his eyes and stepped back to let Nick in. “You’re not planning on wearing that _all_ day, are you?”

 

“What? Oh, no, this was only for this morning. Every Christmas morning I go over and play Santa for the kids at Treeview hospital.”

 

“That’s very nice of you, but shouldn’t you be doing that on Christmas Eve?”

 

“Probably, but the bauershwein who works that shift and I don’t necessarily get along so I wait until the morning when there’s a eisbieber there.”

 

Made sense, Nick conceded. He didn’t have time to say as much, however, because from behind him he heard Rosalee call his name.

 

“Merry Christmas, Nick!” she warmly greeted. He noted by the hint of sadness in her eyes that she wasn’t necessarily comfortable with all the Christmas decorations and he empathized with her. Neither of them, it seemed, wanted to do much celebrating today but for their friends, they were both going to fake it as well as they could. She walked into the living room from the kitchen, with her arms open to hug him.

 

Nick put on his best smile, which he was sure didn’t fool her, and gave her a hug. “Merry Christmas, Rosalee,” he said before releasing her and stepping back. “What’s going on in there?” he asked, nodding towards the kitchen.

 

“Oh just some pies and rolls,” Monroe replied offhandedly. He came over and wrapped his right arm around Rosalee’s shoulders, looking like a couple while still managing to leave space in case she wanted to pull away.

 

“For who?”

 

“For us,” Monroe said and making it sound like that was the most obvious answer.

 

“You didn’t have to do that, Monroe. I said that I had the food covered,” Nick answered back, though he conveniently left out the part where he still wasn’t sure _how_ Sean was going to do that or _what_ they we're having.

 

“Yeah, I know but I happen to like baking and you, well, you kinda suck at it.”

 

“That’s because I don’t bake,” Nick argued back with a slight smirk. Trust the food snob to make more work for himself simply because he didn’t trust Nick’s cooking. Hell, Nick probably could have just asked Monroe to _make_ the entire meal, and he probably would have. “Anyways, you guys ready?”

 

“Yeah, just let me grab the food and then we can go.”

 

Nick gave Rosalee questioning look. Monroe didn’t _seriously_ plan on wearing that suit, did he?

 

She smiled at him and looked to her right where Monroe was almost to the kitchen. “You should probably change first, Monroe,” she reminded gently. “I can take care of the food.”

 

Monroe stopped and looked down at himself and then looked back up. A look of incomprehension crossed his face before dawning realization wiped it away. “Oh, right,” he said, now coming back towards them. “Wouldn’t want to hang out with the Guardian of Portland, looking like Santa.”

 

**oOo**

Sean stood in Nick’s living room, trying to talk himself into having more patience with the eisbiber who currently stood before him. The trouble was that the man kept yammering on and Sean found his desire to snap at him growing with every word. How Nick put up with this, he’d never understand.

 

“How is Nick doing? Is-is he okay?” the eisbiber stammered and rattled. “I mean, of course he’s not okay, what am I talking about? But, you know, is he mourning like he should be?”

 

Well that was a curious way to put it. But Sean still got the point and it took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes or herd the wesen out of the house.

 

“Nick’s fine,” he said, hopefully as indulgently as Nick would have. He tacked on a smile just to be sure.

 

While most lower wesen were spineless, this particular eisbiber has proved himself to have more courage than the rest. He was willing to stand up for and with Nick as well as help out if it was needed. Sean knew that the only reason they were able to put Butrell behind bars was because he had talked his friend into coming forward. For an eisbiber, that showed a lot of courage and strength.

 

It was because of that that Sean wasn’t snapping at the man or dismissing him outright. To put it bluntly, he was useful, for both himself and for Nick, and he wasn’t about to destroy a connection like that.

 

“He is? Oh good, good, the wife will be so glad to hear it,” the eisbiber, Bud was his name, answered. “She hasn’t met Nick yet, but she still dotes on him. I-I think it’s because she’s afraid that he’ll kill her if she doesn’t. Old world thinking is hard to break, you know, and we’ve been taught for so long that grimms are killers, so it’s hard for her to understand that Nick isn’t going to chop her head off.”

 

No, but Sean was seriously tempted to do it.

 

He turned his head to the left when he heard Nick’s truck drive by. Even though he couldn’t actually see the vehicle, he followed it as it wrapped around the block and pulled up into the driveway, using the sound of the truck as well as Nick’s scent to keep track of where it was. When multiple car doors slammed closed and three sets of footsteps sounded, Sean steeled himself for a night of relative small talk and being pleasant.

 

“Bud?” Nick’s voice said as the group came into the living room. A smile appeared on his face but as it didn’t reach his eyes like usual, Sean considered it nothing more than the ghost of what it normally was. Still, it was there and it was better than the broken man that had met him at the door two nights ago. “What are you doing here?”

 

The eisbiber looked between Nick and Sean, evidently wondering how much he should say. Sean stepped in for him, lest he should work himself into a heart attack. “I asked his wife for help with all the food.”

 

“She was thrilled to help,” Bud put in, apparently fearing that Nick would be upset that Sean had asked. Frankly Sean didn’t care if Nick was upset or not. It was done. “And she added a few more things. You know, just in case.”

 

Given’s Nick lack of dismay at everything, it was probably less than what the eisbibers normally gave Nick but it was still too much; especially for one man.

 

Since it was obvious to even the eisbibers that Nick had enough blankets, they had settled for pot holders and a tablecloth instead. The work was fantastically done, Sean admitted, but it was a bit too homey for him. Alongside those, on the table in the dining room, were enough pies to share between the five of them as well as some rolls, a couple loaves of bread, and more than five dozen large muffins. That was all second to the feast they had provided for Nick to eat tonight – ham, turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, two different kinds of sweet potatoes, and more rolls.

 

 _How_ they thought that Nick could eat all that, Sean wasn’t sure and he didn’t bother bringing it up. No doubt both Nick and Bud already knew that.

 

“Well tell her thanks for me, Bud,” Nick said after having turned behind him to look at everything. “I’m sorry to make you have to leave your family on Christmas, though.”

 

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Bud immediately assured. “We had Christmas this morning and now the wife and kids are getting ready to go over to my brother’s for dinner.”

 

“Well, you should get back to them before they leave you.”

 

Gentle though it had been, it had still been a hint for Bud to leave and the eisbiber recognized it and didn’t argue against it. He nodded, said for Nick to let him know if there was anything that Nick needed, wished them all a Merry Christmas, and then stammered through his hopes that Nick was doing alright before he eventually left. Since he was backing out of the front door, he didn’t notice that Hank was right there and so ran right into him when he pivoted to walk forwards. Again apologies were nervously made as well as another wish for a merry Christmas and then, finally, he got into his truck and headed home.

 

“Is he always that nervous?” Hank asked, pointing his finger in the direction from which Bud had just left.

 

“Pretty much,” Nick answered while Monroe and Rosalee echoed a simultaneous, “Yes,” behind him.

 

“Okay,” Hank said, drawing the word out for a bit. “So, you gonna invite me in or what?”

 

**oOo**

While day turned into evening, the group sat around and talked. The TV had been put on for background noise and sometimes when the conversation lagged, they would all watch whatever it was that was on, but otherwise they all carried out their own, private conversations with one another.

 

Around five o’clock they decided that it was time to eat and so while Sean and Hank cleared off the table, Nick, Monroe, and Rosalee gathered the plates, cutlery, and food. When one group would go into the kitchen with their arms full, another would come out. Slowly the extras were replaced by the meal and while Nick went to grab everyone something to drink (which mainly consisted of wine and beer), the rest unstacked the plates and passed around the silverware.

 

Once in the kitchen, Nick allowed his smile to relax. While there had been times when he’d truly laughed or smiled today, most of the time he had been faking it. His mind kept thinking about Juliette, about the Christmases they had shared together, about how her parents were doing today, and about how she would never see another Christmas again. It didn’t take long for the happiness on the surface to fade and the grief which lay just beneath to replace it.

 

In the dining room he could hear Monroe’s chatter and Hank and Rosalee’s laughter. He was glad that his friends were enjoying themselves and a big part of him wished that he could too. But another part believed that if he allowed himself to forget, that he was being unfaithful to Juliette and what her death meant in some way.

 

There were a lot of things in the world that were bad. But Nick believed that there weren’t many quite so much as guilt. Guilt could drag you down and keep you there. It made you act irrationally and sometimes illogically. It made a person keep themselves from feeling joy simply because of one moment of pain. It swallowed your life whole and never released you.

 

“You okay?”

 

Sean’s voice startled him and Nick jumped slightly at the sound of it. He turned around, beer and wine in hand and gave the other man another smile which he didn’t feel. “Yeah, fine.”

 

Sean didn’t reply or react. Green eyes roamed over Nick, probably searching for signs that something was wrong with him. When they didn’t find anything physical, they returned to Nick’s face, their look neither pitying nor hard.

 

“You do remember that I know when you’re lying, right?” he reminded, blocking Nick’s way to the dining room.

 

“Just, let me get through tonight, alright?” Nick practically begged. He knew that he wouldn’t have gotten away with lying but he also just didn’t want to get into it right now. All he wanted to do was go back in there, pretend that everything is fine, and be with his friends. It felt a little childish, wanting that, but that was what he needed.

 

Sean raised his head ever so slightly and then stepped out of the way. He remained in the kitchen behind Nick for a moment and then Nick heard him follow.

 

“Finally!” Hank praised as he grabbed his beer out of Nick’s hand. “What took you so long?”

 

Nick smiled, sitting down with his back to the front door. “Sorry,” he apologized as he handed the wine bottle over to Monroe. “Had to find the bottle opener.” He left it vague on which bottle opener he needed but they didn’t ask for specifics. Either they were content to let him be with his small secrets or they were simply too excited by the food to notice. Whichever it was, Nick thanked God that they didn’t ask and left it at that.

 

‘So, what makes you think Sergio will come after me?” Monroe asked as he placed a couple slices of ham onto Rosalee’s plate. Since he mainly preferred to eat vegetarian, Nick had made sure to have soy steaks inside his refrigerator, ready to eat for the blutbad.

 

“It kinda makes sense, doesn’t it?” Hank asked as he plopped some mashed potatoes onto his plate and then passed the bowl over to Sean. “I mean, you _were_ one of the first wesen that Nick came up against and didn’t kill.”

 

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Monroe said, making it sound almost as a side note.

 

“No problem,” Nick answered even though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him at the time.

 

Unlike the others, Nick made sure to keep his portions small. He wasn’t all that hungry but if he didn’t eat something, they would all notice so he took a little of each. He now put a small bite of turkey into his mouth and chewed, letting them carry the conversation as he did so.

 

“And you’re also one of Nick’s closest friends,” Sean added, taking his own portion of potatoes after Hank had passed them over.

 

“So what, the others were just the appetizer and I’m the main dish? Well, that’s comforting.”

 

“No, Nick is the main course,” Sean corrected. “The others weren’t even worth mentioning to Kelly and Sergio and you’re the bait they plan to use to lure Nick in.”

 

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound much better,” Monroe groused. “Why do they want Nick so badly anyways?”

 

“Mostly, it’s to get to me.”

 

“What makes you so special?” Hank asked, confused. His hand, which was previously frozen halfway to his mouth, now moved to fork a bite of sweet potatoes into the opening. His brown eyes remained focused on Sean as he patiently waited for an answer.

 

It was then that Nick noticed they were _all_ looking at Sean, waiting for an answer. Not surprising when you drop a small bomb like that and then get asked why. Still, Nick sat back, content to take a back seat and letting Sean take the wheel.

 

Sean placed his fork back on the table and then leaned back into his chair, evidently settling in for the long conversation that was about to take place. He folded one leg over the other underneath the table and then laid his hands in his lap. Nick had to admit that he looked relaxed but underneath the calm exterior, Nick sensed something else. Something more animal than man, gearing up for a fight.

 

“There has always been..tension between my youngest brother and I,” the regnant began. “But recently things have escalated to hostility.”

 

“Recently being?” Monroe put in.

 

“Within the past few years.” They all gave one another looks and then they all looked over at Nick, not missing the timing of the escalation. “Now, obviously, having a Grimm within my protectorate made things worse, but it wasn’t until he got wind of my true feelings for Nick that he decided to up his game entirely.”

 

“When did he find that out?”

 

This time it was Rosalee’s turn to ask. After asking the question, she put a bite of ham into her mouth and then gently chewed as she waited.

 

“The night the Reapers attacked Nick, after Butrell was arrested.”

 

The quiet that descended on the room made Kylie’s nail clicks from the room above seem abnormally loud.

 

“You knew as early as that?” Rosalie asked with something akin to awe in her voice. There was also something else which Nick couldn’t define. It almost bordered on romanticizing but not quite.

 

Sean nodded but held his tongue. Apparently he was only content to answer questions which were relevant to the trouble that they were all facing, which did not include his feelings for Nick or when he first noticed them. Come to think of it, it might be goof for Nick to find that out for himself whenever he and Sean were alone. For now, however, that could wait.

 

“So what do we do?” Rosalee asked after the quiet had lingered a little too long. She no longer ate, Nick noticed, but he doubted that it was because she was no longer hungry. The tone of the conversation had changed from a relatively light, information-gathering one to one that is more business-like. Monroe and Hank followed suit and Nick was glad for a reason _not_ to have to eat anymore.

 

This time they all looked to Nick for answers and Nick swallowed as he tried to think of a plan. Beyond keeping everyone under the roof of this house, he wasn’t exactly sure what he thought they should do. The obvious answer was to get to Sergio before he got to them but he knew that that wasn’t possible for the simple reason that they didn’t know _how_ to get to him. The man was a ghost, a suspected job requirement when working for the Royals. There were no prints to use against him, no place address that was listed, nothing.

 

And so, the next best idea was all he had. The trouble with that one was that he was pretty sure that it wasn’t a good idea at all and he was loathe to do it. Yet, it was all he could come up with.

 

“Bait,” he said after a minute’s silence.

 

“How?” Hank asked. “We don’t know who he’s going after next and we can’t exactly assign a detail to each of us.”

 

And that was true. But then something pricked on Nick’s subconscious and he sat forward, feeling a bit more engaged. “No, but I’m pretty sure he’s targeting Monroe.”

 

“How do you know that?” the blutbad asked, looking more confused than anything. “Just because you _think_ he is, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

 

Before Monroe had even finished speaking, Nick was shaking his head no. “I sensed him at your house,” he said, just now figuring out what that feeling had been. “He was there. Somewhere. Hidden.”

 

“So, you want to use Monroe as bait?” Rosalee said, sounding as though she had just now caught on to the plan and didn’t like it. Actually, she sounded a bit angry at the thought which was good news for Monroe and the blutbad’s feelings for her but potentially bad if they all wanted to draw Sergio out.

 

“It could work,” Hank said, not questioning _how_ Nick had sensed the other grimm, and throwing his full support behind Nick’s idea. “If we keep enough eyes on the house, we could catch him in the act.”

 

“Nick can be the eyes,” Monroe said, but Nick and Sean were shaking their heads in disagreement.

 

“No, if Nick could sense him then Sergio can do the same,” Sean reasoned. “He wouldn’t try it. It would be too easy for Nick could get to him and Sergio likes to play with his prey.”

 

“What about me?” Rosalee offered. “I could hang out with Monroe; he’d be harder to take down if there’s two of us.”

 

“And it would make it that much easier for Sergio to kill you as well as take Monroe,” Nick said, vehemently against giving Sergio another target.

 

“What about Hank?” Monroe suggested, targeting he only other person who would be likely. Briefly, Nick noticed that no one suggested Sean, but he supposed that that made sense since he had a close, some might say somewhat personal, knowledge of Sergio.

 

Nick was about to argue against it, not liking the idea of giving Sergio another, somewhat weaker target, but it was then that he realized that he wasn’t going to like the idea of anyone being there because they could all be a target and so he shut his mouth. Instead, he mulled it over, not from a friend’s or a partner’s point of view, but from something far colder and clinical. Of them all in the room, Hank was the logical choice. Still, between Rosalee and Hank, Nick believed that Rosalee could truly be a better match since she had her wesen side to back her up; Hank just had his gun which didn’t do any good if he didn’t see the guy coming.

 

Torn, he looked over to Sean who, apart from disagreeing about Nick being the eyes, had remained silent. Sean’s expression was neutral, uncaring almost. Nick could feel the rage coming from Sean but it spoke of the regnant’s self-control that none of it shown on his face. “What do you think?” he asked, needing someone else’s opinion, someone else who wasn’t so closely tied to this group as Nick was.

 

“Why not do both?” he offered with so little inflection in his voice that he could have been discussing whether the Seahawks were going to go to the Playoffs next season and not people’s lives. Nick tried not to let his anger at that show since that was what he needed from the regnant right now. After another thirty second’s quiet, Sean elaborated, “Have Hank outside in an unfamiliar, unmarked car, and have Rosalee inside with Monroe. It provides a double line of defense and perhaps where one fails, the other won’t.”

 

“Or perhaps they’ll both get killed,” Monroe said, obviously not liking the fact that Rosalee could be in danger.

 

“That is a possibility,” Sean assented.

 

“It’s our only option,” Hank earnestly interjected. He looked resigned to the fact that it _was_ their only viable plan but he sounded determined as well. Whatever happened, Hank was evidently positive that he wasn’t going to be surprised by the unfriendly grimm.

 

“Then it’s settled,” Rosalee threw in to show that she, too, was okay with the plan. “Monroe and I will be inside the house and Hank will cover the outside.”

 

Monroe gave Nick a look that was a combination of pleading and angry, but Nick’s hands were tied. When Nick returned the look, he was sure that he looked dismally resigned, which he knew wouldn’t assure his friend, but couldn’t muster up enough any other emotion for reassurance.

 

His phone ringing broke the silence and more than one person jumped at the sound. Annoyingly enough, Sean wasn’t one of them, but Hank, Rosalee _and_ Monroe had. With a sigh, Nick pushed his chair back and went over to where he’d haphazardly laid the device when he’d gotten back. The number of his doctor’s office flashed and Nick’s brows briefly furrowed as he answered, “Yeah?”

 

 _“Detective,”_ the voice of Doctor Marcie Kisic greeted him. _“Sorry to bother you but I figured after what I’d heard in the news,”_ her voice changed, making it sound as though she knew more than the simple tv news coverage would say, _“you wouldn’t be doing much celebrating anyways.”_

 

“What’s up?” he asked, curious and choosing leave her hint at Juliette’s death alone.

 

_“I’ve been analyzing your blood and I think I’ve discovered why it is that you heal faster than others, wesen or human. Are you able to meet me here tomorrow, say, around ten a.m.?”_

Confusion mixed with suspicion took over him. It seemed a little too convenient that she had just _now_ figured out the solution and wanted him to meet. He looked over at his friends, just now noticing that they were looking at him, some of them no doubt listening in as best they could, and he gave another sigh. As far things with them were concerned, there wasn’t anything more that he could do and if Doctor Kisic thought it necessary that he come to her, he’d trust her..for now.

 

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, now focusing in on Sean, “I’m fairly certain my boss isn’t going to allow me to go to work tomorrow anyways.”

 

At this Sean smirked and nodded his agreement. The term “Bereavement Leave” rang through Nick’s head and he swallowed some bile that had risen to his throat. Taking time off wasn’t his way of coping; it only allowed him to dwell on things that he hadn’t been able to stop and couldn’t change. But, Sean was still his boss and Nick knew that he wouldn’t be able to deter the regnant from what he saw as helping.

 

 _“As well he shouldn’t,”_ she agreed, sounding a bit more like an approving friend than his doctor. She must have noticed how it came out because there was a pause and then she cleared her throat, _“Anyways, I will see you in the morning. Have a good rest of your Christmas, Detective.”_

She disconnected before he could return the greeting, which was fine because chances were that if she was working on Christmas, she didn’t actually celebrate it.

 

“What was that about?” Hank asked, the sentiment evidently echoed throughout the group.

 

“Nothing,” Nick dismissed, “some test results are in that my doctor wants to go over with me.”

 

“Is everything okay?” Rosalee, ever the caretaker, asked.

 

“Yeah,” Nick dismissed again, though he was exactly positive on that. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He paused a moment to give everyone time to stop looking at him but when they didn’t, he plastered on a fake smile and asked, “Who’s ready for dessert?”

 

This seemed to signal to everyone to change the topic and so the rest of them returned his smile and eagerly agreed that they all did. Without waiting for much more than a round of hands raising, Nick escaped into the kitchen.

 

With the sounds of his friends’ voices chattering in the dining room, Nick hid in the kitchen, allowing the sounds that surrounded him to lull him into a false sense of safety. For tonight, all would be well. Tonight, they could all pretend to be a normal group, getting together for the Christmas holiday. Tomorrow, Nick knew, is when the real world would break through their façade and shatter their world completely.

 

**TBC**


	35. Chapter 35

The next morning, Marcie could be found in her office, waiting for the grimm to arrive. She had heard his hesitation last night when she had called and it had made her wonder what had been going on in the man’s life that he didn’t even trust his _doctor_ not to ambush him. Being a grimm had its dangers, she knew, but she also knew that grimms could handle themselves and that very few whom posed a danger would go after one; at least not in a doctor’s office. So who had now decided that they could take one on and live? It was surely none of her business but since Nick was not only her patient but one of the few grimms who listened first and killed as a last resort, Marcie felt inclined to help him if she could.

 

Her focus shifted from the door, which she expected her patient to open at any moment, to the papers on her desk. To the layman the print on them was nothing but a bit of gibberish. To a person who was trained to read it, however, it was something else entirely.

 

The average person has about twenty-three molecules which forms part of their genetic makeup. However, Nick had more; not many more but enough to where it was abnormal and fascinating. It was also more-than-likely what made him a creature unto itself, meaning, not a human and not a wesen, but a grimm. If Marcie could trust that the scientific-wesen community wouldn’t use it to their advantage - and against her patient - she would be very disposed to publish an article on her findings. But alas, many wesen still had the same old-world view of grimms which was bad for Nick whom was most definitely _not_ an old-school grimm.

 

The sensor which crossed the threshold to the office entry sounded, alerting Marcie that Nick had entered. She patiently waited for the grimm to get to her door where he quietly, almost hesitantly, knocked and waited for permission to enter. Marcie got up and went to let him in. For some reason she hated saying “come in” as it felt so pompous to her. His face showed surprise, probably at the fact that she’d opened the door rather than telling him to enter, but he didn’t let it stay there for long. Almost as soon as she’d seen it, he wiped it off and schooled his features into something more neutral, if not a bit menacing. From behind his back, Marcie rolled her brown eyes. If he thought that was going to intimidate her, he didn’t know anything about her kind at all.

 

“So, what did you need to see me for?” he asked, evidently choosing to be blunt rather than attempt any small-talk.

 

He moved with the grace of a predator to sit in the chair across from her desk. No signs of injury or pain were present, unlike when she had last seen him, and for that she was tempted to conduct another examination so that she could get to know what his body was like when it was healthy. His surety in his ability to handle whatever comes vibrated out of him in waves and she swore she could actually feel them as they broke against her skin. It made a very small part of her shrink back a little and a larger, more prevalent, part want to answer the silent (and most likely unconscious) challenge which he emitted.

 

Swallowing to choke down in her instincts, Marcie closed the door behind him and went to sit at her desk. She tried to smile at him but it was brittle and it withered in the face of his grim (no pun intended) expression.

 

“Thank you for coming,” she said, wondering if she should get him to try and confide a little bit in her or if she should simply get to the point and then send him on his way. A balance between the two would be a good place to start but she wasn’t sure if she was up to the task. “I have found some things within your genes which, I believe, may help explain why you healed so quickly, Bud’s super-goo notwithstanding.”

 

Marcie looked up, wanting to know if he would show any sort of emotion to hearing that, but when she was met with the stone façade, she looked back down at the papers on her desk and stared. She wasn’t sure where to start, to tell the truth. Should she be clinical or should she speak as though she were talking to an idiot? Again, she went with the middle ground.

 

“While testing your blood, I found a lot of the same genetic markers which are present in all beings.” He nodded his head slowly to show he understood but said nothing and so she continued, “But there are also _more_ markers than are present in either a human or a wesen.”

 

“And that means what?” he said, talking slowly as though he were trying to understand what it was she was or was not saying. The iciness he had been showing since he’d walked in melted a little as his brows furrowed into a small line of confusion.

 

“It means that, from what I can understand, you are a hybrid of sorts.” She paused to let him attempt to take that in and then she hurriedly continued, “As I was testing, I also ran a test of a regular human’s blood and then the blood of several different wesen, mine included, and what I found was that you share markers with both species. You have all the standard human markers that a person would expect to find in a thirty-something year old male, but then you also share some of the markers in several wesen. It’s almost like, over time, the grimms have evolved from a form of cross-breeding, keeping hold of the traits which help you and letting go of the ones that don’t.” Upon seeing that his confusion hadn’t abated, she added, “It’s a little hard to explain, honestly, but one thing is for sure. The main marker which wesen scientists have found to activate the woge is the only constant marker which is not present in your blood.”

 

“So,” Nick said, again talking slowly as his brain tried to catch up, “does this mean that I will develop other..abilities?”

 

“It’s possible,” she granted, “but I honestly couldn’t say for sure. This is a new area for me.”

 

“Genetics?” he quipped, using humor to hide his confusion.

 

“Studying a grimm,” she said, somewhat more seriously than she had meant. His focused singled onto her and she felt a bit uncomfortable with the renewed attention. It wasn’t just because he was staring at her; he’d been doing that ever since she’d started talking. No, it was the expression that was in his eyes, a mixture of shock and anger, which shone back at her. She sighed. “As you know, grimms and wesen haven’t always gotten along. Mostly whenever a wesen comes up against a grimm, one of them always ends up dead. Unless the wesen is a scientist, no wesen is thinking of capturing a grimm to study it-him/her, I mean.” She winced at her slip, “Sorry.” He waved a hand to let her know that he hadn’t taken offense and gave a half-smile which didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyways, no one has ever really been able to build enough of a rapport with a grimm to have them actually allow the wesen to take some blood and examine both the grimm and the blood.”

 

“So this is basically a find for you,” he said, sounding only mildly sarcastic, “you should publish in the wesen journal of medicine.”

 

Oh how she wished she could. Still, she knew an insincere suggestion when she heard it and she smiled at him. “No doubt, that wouldn’t work out so well for you,” she said a bit wryly.

 

“Not a lot has of late, so why worry about that now?” he quipped bitterly.

 

“Anything you care to talk about?” she asked with her eyes on the papers, though not focusing on them, to give him the sense that she wasn’t as interested as she truly felt.

 

“I honestly wouldn’t know where to start,” he answered somewhat dejectedly.

 

“Does this have anything to do with those grisly murders that have been happening?” she asked, doing her best not to allude directly to the woman that had recently been killed. The gossip mill within the wesen community was about three-times stronger than the one in Hollywood and she’d heard that the woman, a Juliette Silverton, had been her patient’s girlfriend at some point in the past. She couldn’t imagine how that death had affected him, how it must still be gnawing at him.

 

He gave a sardonic smile filled with enough self loathing to be palpable. “You could say that.”

 

So that was a ‘yes’. Not wanting to push, Marcie remained quiet, though her brain kept pumping out questions which she knew he wouldn’t answer. Unable to decide what would be best to say next, she chose to say nothing for a time. After that had passed, she found that she couldn’t stand it and so she asked something which she had been thinking about recently. “Are any of my patients in the immediate crosshairs?”

 

Again he smirked, his head moving mildly in a nod. “Monroe.”

 

Trying to digest that, Marcie gave a small nod herself. “Anything I can do to help?”

 

“Not unless you want to help me hunt down and kill another grimm,” he answered, his tone making it obvious that he didn’t believe she’d say yes.

 

“Another grimm,” she said, doing her best to sound curious and not panicked. “Anyone I know?”

 

“His name’s Sergio, though whether or not you know him would only be known to you.”

 

Marcie felt her heart stop as her mind screamed, _“NO!”_

 

Yes, she knew him. He was the grimm who was responsible for over half her kind being eradicated, including her mate and her two children. Anger, fury, and fear stirred in her breast and Marcie began to breathe faster as her heart rate increased.

 

“So you do know him,” her patient said. The calmness and resignation within his voice helped to ease a bit of her intense emotions, but only slightly.

 

“What makes you say that?” she asked, trying to play her tone off lightly.

 

“Your eyes glowed yellow,” he said mildly, evidently used to that happening to him. “What did he do?”

 

“He killed a lot of people,” she said, trying to remain vague in an attempt to distance herself from her grief. When she focused back onto the grimm in front of her, she saw that he had understood far more of the subtext than she had wanted and he looked like he was getting tired of hearing about all the innocent people that Sergio had killed. Her blood began to heat again and this time she was aware of the change in her vision as her eyes changed to the panther’s. “I will help you,” she said, her voice coming out as little more than a growl. She didn’t add that she wanted to be the one to kill the maniacal grimm because no matter how much she desired the man’s death, Marcie knew that she wouldn’t be able to be the one to take his life. Her job was to save lives, not take them. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t help orchestrate it so that he ended up dead, nonetheless.

 

“What are your plans for the day?” he asked, taking her acceptance at face value and not even bothering to put any form of restrictions on the limits of her help.

 

She smiled, her white teeth peering out of a feral grin. “I’m free all day.”

 

oOo

 

Hank Griffin sat in the unfamiliar vehicle, feeling somewhat cramped inside the little Honda. He had strongly argued for something with some space, but the Captain had felt that it would be too obvious and had chosen a broke-down POS instead. It smelled like corn chips and feet in the car which left Hank with cuddling closely into his coat so that he could crack a window or two to get some fresh air. The things he did for family, right? Hopefully this guy wouldn’t take too long in coming cause Hank _really_ didn’t want to be in the car much longer.

 

A rustling of leaves from the forest to Hank’s left caught his attention and as quickly as he could be without seeming to notice, he was alert. Although he didn’t expect Sergio to make such an obvious sound, Hank watched out of the corner of his eye for movement just in case. When a woman, a pretty one at that, came out instead of a man, Hank relaxed and went back to watching Monroe’s house. However, when said woman walked around his car, opened the passenger door and got in, Hank sat more erectly, hand near his gun in case it was needed.

 

The first thing he noticed were her eyes. They were almost exotic, though their color was a standard color of honey brown. Her skin, barely visible underneath her many layers of warm clothing, was a beautiful cappuccino color and damn-near flawless from what he could see. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat and business-like bun, leaving her face exposed to scrutiny as well as the elements of the weather.

 

In spite of how pleasing he found her to look at, however, there was nothing nice in the look she gave him. It was a challenging sort of expression, one that dared him to try and kick her out of the car. While he had been tempted at first to do it, he no longer held any such feelings for the simple reason that he was sure one of them would end up hurt if he did, and it wouldn’t be her.

 

“I’m Marcie,” she said, her voice an alto and so formal he almost wondered if she was a Fed. “Nick said that I could help you keep a lookout for Sergio.”

 

Nick sent her? A heads-up would have been nice!

 

“And why did he think that?” Hank cautiously challenged while doing his best to reserve any judgment until he knew the full story. One thing he had learned from being a cop was that it was best not to act on any first impressions unless you had hard proof. While you could have your own instincts, tuitions, or ideas and what you think is the whole story, rare was the time when they turned out to be the entire truth. Sometimes you got to find out all of it, sometimes you didn’t. But there was never a time when you knew it all right off the bat.

 

Her smile was almost feral and it had Hank wondering if she was a wesen or simply crazy. Could be both for all he knew. “Because, unlike you, I know what he looks like.”

 

Hank recognized that the words were meant to sound smug but her voice was cold and Hank could almost feel the hate that roiled off the woman. He watched her, waiting to see if she would say more but she seemed to think that all she had said was sufficient and so she remained quiet. As soon as she had finished talking to him, she turned her head to focus on the surroundings rather than Monroe’s house. Since she no longer seemed interested in him, Hank did the same, refusing to push this woman until he knew more about her and, possibly, until he got to know her better.

 

When Hank’s phone rang, they both jumped as neither of them had been expecting something quite so loud to shatter the intense silence that had filled the Honda. Hank checked to see who it was before he slid the green bar on his iPhone to answer it.

 

“Nick, what’s up?” He was proud that he managed to sound casual when all he truly wanted to do was demand answers. His eyes still scanned the outside but his attention was no longer on guard duty. That he left to Marcie.

 

 _“Hey, I’m sending someone to help you,”_ Nick said, sounding a bit out of breath. _“Her name is Marcie and she can help identify Sergio in case he shows up.”_

Oh sure, _now_ Nick calls to warn him! Hank rolled his eyes. “I know,” he said, making sure to keep his derisiveness in his tone. “She’s been here for about fifteen minutes.”

 

 _“Yeah, sorry,”_ Nick said after a pause. _“I didn’t think she’d get there that fast. She must have woged.”_

So she _was_ a wesen. That was good to know. Hank longed to ask his partner what type of wesen the woman next to him was but he figured that would be too rude. After all, she was right there; he could always ask her. Not that he expected her to answer, but he could ask.

 

“What makes you think Sergio’s even gonna show?” he asked as his impatience to escape from the poor excuse for a car got the better of him. “I’ve been here all morning and nothing.”

 

Nick let out a sight that Hank had come to recognize as frustration. _“I don’t, but I’d rather have you guys there in the off chance that he does rather than find out later that he’d been there all along.”_

“Yeah, I get it,” Hank said, truly understanding. The phrase ‘better safe than sorry’ had never been truer, he supposed, though he wished that someone else could be on guard duty.

 

There was a moment of silence where neither man spoke and Hank felt his interest rise when Nick’s voice _did_ return but it was hushed, like he was whispering. _“Hank, I gotta go.”_

Nick didn’t even give Hank the time to ask if everything was alright. He hung up as soon as those words were spoken and it took Hank a second for his brain to catch up with what had just happened. When it had, the detective found himself almost concerned for his partner. Something clearly hadn’t been right but as long as he was stuck here babysitting Monroe, he couldn’t do a damn thing about whatever it was that had Nick spooked.

 

Luckily, he knew someone that could. Hank immediately dialed the Captain’s number, waiting for the crisp, _“Yeah”_ , before he said, “I think Nick might be in trouble.”

 

There was a pause where the Captain hesitated, or perhaps he was simply making sure that no one else caught on to what was being said, and then he said, _“What makes you think that?”_ His tone was carefully neutral but Hank could still tell that there was an undercurrent of worry in it. He tried not to smile. It was cute, the way the Captain cared about Nick, and Nick for the Captain, though the stubborn idiot wouldn’t outwardly admit that yet.

 

“He and I were on the phone,” Hank said and he almost hated how much of a mother-hen he sounded as he spoke. But Nick was his partner, man, and you looked out for one another. “He didn’t say much, but when he last spoke, he was whispering, like he was tryin’ to sneak up on someone or somethin’.”

 

 _“Nick’s a big boy, he can take care of himself,”_ was the swift reply and casual dismissal.

 

“Yeah, and what if he can’t?” Hank returned. When there was no reply, he sighed. “I’m not sayin’ you have to being a knight-in-shining-armor but it couldn’t hurt to check on him, you know?”

 

He heard his boss chuckle a little, no doubt to Hank’s reference of a savior, but he still didn’t answer. Figuring that was the best he was going to get, Hank prepared to hang up when the Captain’s voice stopped him. _“I’ll swing by and make sure everything is alright,”_ he promised, immediately relieving the stone of anxiety that had begun to form in Hank’s chest.

 

Neither man broke off with words of goodbye. With the understanding that, one way or another, Nick would be fine, they hung up. Hank tucked his phone into his coat pocket and then started when he saw Marcie looking at him. “Something wrong?” she asked with only a hint of concern in her voice.

 

“No,” Hank dismissed, not wanting to get into partner dynamics with the very headstrong and complete stranger next to him. He smiled, hoping that it would make the comment go further and then looked back out the window. As Monroe poked his head out the door to look around before grabbing the paper which had sat there all morning, Hank sighed and added, “Just another day with a grimm as your friend.”

 

**oOo**

Sergio watched the small group, both outside and within, the blutbad’s house. He found it comical that they believed they were enough to stop him from getting to his prey. It would be very easy to shoot each and every one of them and no one would be the wiser as to who did it or where the shots had come from. But then that puta, Marcie, had shown up and he had reluctantly backed off, immediately heading for his car. He was not afraid of the wesen but he knew enough of their kind to know that she would be able to smell him a mile away and that this particular haji would not hesitate in hunting him down the second she sensed him.

 

In silence, his car started, purring to life in the way that electric cars tended to do. He waited a moment, checking his blind spots and deciding what to do with his day, before he pulled out onto the street, leaving the blutbad’s house behind. The streets of Portland held no sway for him. Sergio had been to much prettier places than this and therefore had no need to stare at the city and marvel over it. So, his mind went inward, still trying to think of where to take him as it led him down one street or another. The blutbad was off limits for the day and he knew that he would need more time to find the other, younger, blutbad and her reinigen, so that left him with few options.

 

A smile of pure glee spread onto his face as his brain finally brought all the pieces together and fit them into the puzzle. With all of his friends either in hiding or guarding the older blutbad, the grimm was now open to attack. Sergio would never say that the man was defenseless, after all, he _was_ a grimm, if a bit young and untrained, and he had a sumnjiv living with him, but Sergio liked his chances. So, turning at the next available place, he turned around and headed in the direction of the grimm’s house.

 

He parked far enough away that the grimm wouldn’t notice the unfamiliar car and strolled along the sidewalk. He took care to nod at neighbors and appear friendly enough as he casually slipped around the back of the house and let himself in illegally. No sound echoed through the cold-feeling home as he closed the door. Not even the sumnjiv could be heard moving around. Of course, he hadn’t heard the bitch the last time either and had had quite the chunk taken out of his leg. That had, unfortunately, set his plans back a bit but he no longer paid the wound any attention. It was little more than a twinge and a scratch now and those he could ignore, especially if it meant bringing the game to a head earlier rather than later.

 

Sergio moved on silent feet as he went from the kitchen to the dining room to the living room, trying to decide where he would or could hide to wait for his opponent. He finally settled on an armchair in the living room corner, not entirely hidden by shadows but enough so that the grimm wouldn’t notice him right away.

 

It didn’t take long for him to hear the grimm’s vehicle pull up in the driveway and the car door slam shut. The grimm’s voice was deep and normal in volume and it seemed he was on the phone with his partner at the blutbad’s house. Then, the grimm noticed that something wasn’t right. Sergio knew the moment that had happened because all normalcy left the grimm’s movements and voice. Suddenly, it was low and strained and Sergio waited for the man to enter.

 

Not surprisingly, the grimm entered with his gun in hand, held out in front of his body and poised to shoot in defense of his life. Sergio smirked at the other man but said nothing, patiently waiting for the grimm to notice his presence.

 

“What do you want?” the blue-eyed man said, his voice deep and almost gruff. Sergio saw the grimm’s shoulders tense even further and he smiled some more.

 

“I merely wanted to come and have a chat with you,” Sergio said, waving his hand towards the chair opposite him in an invitation to join him.

 

The grimm’s jaw clenched and his hand tightened on the gun, his finger getting even closer to the trigger. “I have nothing to say to you,” the grimm said.

 

“Not even that I have a right to remain silent and all that?” Sergio teased. He had doubted that the would be able to talk this out but he had thought to try anyways. Now that he had his answer, Sergio stood up, looking far more relaxed than he was and especially more so than the man that he faced.

 

They were pretty evenly matched, he noticed, as his eyes met the icy-blue of the man opposite him. Though Sergio was slightly slenderer than the other grimm, he also knew that he had more experience with hand-to-hand combat than his opponent. Since this man was a cop, he was far more comfortable with hiding behind his gun and badge than he was using fists and violence – odd traits in a grimm. But that was what made Sergio far more confident in his ability to triumph. Sadly, there seemed to be no weakness that Sergio could use in case he had to fight dirty, but that was life and he had a _very_ good habit of rolling with the punches.

 

“Somehow, I doubted that you would let me arrest you,” the grimm quipped with more humor in his voice than Sergio had thought he would.

 

Good, the man has a relatively good sense of comedic timing – that could come in handy later on. Sergio hated it when his captives lost their personalities and simply gave in. They made the whole point of their capture moot and it was then that Sergio usually decided they were better as target practice than bait. This one, though, Sergio could possibly have _lots_ of fun with him before he got annoyed with him.

 

“I do, so, appreciate a person with intelligence,” Sergio responded, coming around the coffee table so that there were no obstacles in his way or within the grimm’s reach that could be thrown at him. He sighed overdramatically as he added, “It’s something that is rare to find nowadays. I do believe that stupidity is going to be mankind’s failing, not curiosity. Don’t you agree?”

 

The grimm didn’t respond but nor did he relax. Clearly the man was used to people attempting to throw him off-guard via polite conversation and he wasn’t planning on falling for it this time. With another sigh, Sergio said, “I had hoped to settle this like gentleman.” He paused, his smile now turning feral with glee. “But I suppose the hard way isn’t so bad either.”

 

He leapt at the grimm, testing the other man’s reflexes and smiling more when he discovered them to be better than he had originally believed. From what he’d heard about the grimm’s encounter with Kelly, Sergio hadn’t believed that Nick was very quick but clearly that had been only because Kelly had been his mother, whom he had believed to be dead.

 

The grimm shot and Sergio found himself barely escaping with a graze high on his left shoulder as he leapt towards his opponent. He didn’t give the man another chance to shoot, choosing to forcefully knock the gun out of the man’s hands via slamming the right wrist into the nearest wall with his left hand while his right grabbed for the grimm’s throat. The hit didn’t phase Nick. Indeed, he barely seemed to notice it at all even though Sergio knew it as fact that it had caused pain. Instead, the grimm grabbed hold of Sergio’s right hand and pulled, wrenching his grasp loose enough so that Nick could breathe again.

 

Once he had had some air in his lungs, the grimm head-butted Sergio. Having seen it coming, Sergio had stepped back enough that the blow struck him on the chin rather than the nose, and he pivoted, giving his all to a kick straight at the grimm’s abdomen. Nick scooted back and out of the way, taking up a fighting stance in the doorway between the living room and the entry. Now Sergio understood how this grimm had avoided the reapers – he was wily and thought quickly on his feet.

 

Sergio’s lips peeled back into a snarl and he lunged for the grimm, going low to avoid the right hook that was no doubt coming his way. He tackled Nick to the ground, feeling satisfied when he heard the man’s skull crack against the floor followed by a grunt of pain. Sergio scrambled up, sliding along the grimm’s body in a rather provocative way had this been a different scenario entirely, pinning him to the floor. Nick bucked but it did no good; though they were similar heights and sizes, Sergio had gravity on his side and he was putting all he had into keeping the man on the floor.

 

For the second time, his right hand clamped around Nick’s throat, applying extra pressure this time to make sure that it left a mark. “I had wanted to bring you in willingly,” he said in between slight pants. The fight had gotten his adrenaline going and his heart was racing enough that his breathing had sped up. He squeezed again, smiling, when he saw the grimm going red in the face. “But I supposed this will have to do.”

 

Had he not been so busy taunting the grimm, he might have seen that the man had been reaching for, and had found, his gun. Alas, he hadn’t noticed it until the thing had been slammed into the side of his face, making his vision black out for a moment and his grip to loosen. He didn’t take long in re-orienting himself but by the time he had, the grimm had switched their positions and Sergio found himself lying on the hardwood floor with the grimm’s gun pointed at his head.

 

“How about _I_ bring _you_ in?” the grimm asked, panting as well.

 

The red around Nick’s throat spoke of early bruising but while Sergio was glad to see it, it wasn’t that that made him smile. Once he had regained enough of himself, he had slowly begun to reach for the knife that he kept in his pant’s pocket. It wasn’t a very big one. He had stabbed plenty of people with it and knew that the most damage it would cause would be a relatively deep gash which would need stitches, but he also knew that that would be enough.

 

“I think not,” he said before he rammed it into the grimm’s right side. The blade struck home, slicing through the grimm’s shirt with relative ease (ah the importance of keeping one’s tools sharp!) and bit into flesh and muscle with some resistance.

 

Above him, Nick cried out, dropping his hold of the gun as his body instinctively reached to pull out the weapon. Sergio pushed the other grimm off him, offering a kick to the man’s side while he was down, and then reached, grabbing a fistful of hair and clenching tightly as he tilted the grimm’s head back.

 

He was just about to deliver a blow that would allow him to take the grimm from his home and disappear when he inhaled and smelled Sean close by. With a grimace of disappointment and not a little hate, Sergio kicked the grimm in the head, pulled out his knife and disappeared out the back door just as the front door was opening.

 

**TBC**


	36. Chapter 36

Sean smelled it as soon as he stepped out of his truck. Blood. Normally he wouldn’t have been half so worried about it except that he knew that it was coming from the direction of Nick’s house and Sean was willing to bet that it was from Nick himself. He didn’t run, per se, to the house but he certainly didn’t stroll. He tried to act as though nothing were wrong in the event that the injury was minor while also trying to get to the house as quickly as possible.

 

“Nick!” he called through the door to the home when he’d arrived close enough. He waited to give his grimm time to answer before he walked into the house and stopped immediately after.

 

The house was eerily quiet. Dim and stuffy but what had held him still was what he saw on the floor. Nick lay there, his legs sticking out of the living room where Sean knew the rest of him would be, and, from what Sean could tell, he wasn’t moving. He closed the door behind him and then made his way into the living room, exposing the rest of his mate and the injuries that he had sustained.

 

The first thing that Sean noticed was the bruising along the left side of Nick’s face. The way that it was focused in one area but was larger than a fist hinted to a boot rather than a hand and Sean assumed that it was that which had knocked Nick unconscious. From there, he moved down to the bruising that was peeking through Nick’s shirt which had been raised to reveal Nick’s left side by the semi-turned position that the grimm was in. Sean also idly noticed a hint of a bruise around Nick’s throat, but what had made him truly see red, literally, was the blood that seemed to be seeping through a wound on Nick’s right side.

 

Sean knelt next to his mate and gently turned him so that the man lay completely flat on the floor and then lifted up the shirt to expose the gash underneath. The wound wasn’t large by any means but it was deep and though the lack of gushing blood hinted that an artery hadn’t been hit, Sean knew from the look of it that it would need stitching. He growled at the thought that someone had attacked his grimm, stopping only when he noticed that Nick was coming to with a crease of pain on his brow.

 

“Oh, that hurts,” the grimm groaned, making the words sound more as a statement than a complaint.

 

“Nick?” Sean said, announcing his presence since he doubted that Nick had noticed.

 

“Sean?” Nick returned a little groggily. “Did Hank call you?”

 

Sean smiled a gentle smile, one that he would only ever give to Nick. “Yeah,” he answered before pulling out his phone and then taking off his coat. He tossed it over to the chair not particularly caring if it made it there or not. “I’m going to make a call but I’ll be right back.”

 

“Who are you calling?” the grimm asked, this time sounding more aware and in more pain than he had before.

 

“A friend,” Sean answered evasively. “She’ll be able to stitch the wound up.”

 

“Call Hank,” Nick said with enough strength in his voice to let Sean know that he meant it to override Sean’s current plans. When Sean made no move, Nick sighed, wincing heavily, “There’s a doctor with him,” he said by way of explanation. “My doctor.”

 

Seeing as how he knew that his team wouldn’t necessarily want to come anyways, Sean waited a moment before dialing Nick’s partner.

 

_“Captain?”_ Hank after letting the phone ring once.

 

“Nick says that you have a doctor with you,” Sean said without preamble.

 

_“Uh,”_ Hank said, clearly not aware of that fact. There was a pause in which Sean could hear a woman’s voice and then Hank came back with, _“Yeah, she’s here.”_

Sean inwardly nodded with satisfaction before his gaze returned to his grimm on the floor and his eyes clouded with red again. “Good,” he said, “Have her meet me at Nick’s house and bring a suture kit as well as the standard first aid one.”

 

_“Captain?”_ Hank inquired, no doubt confused and a little concerned about what was going on.

 

“Nick has been stabbed,” he answered in a voice that was little more than a growl. His mask was slipping and he felt the regnant dying to take over and hunt down the person responsible for this. Though there hadn’t been a clue as to whom it could have been, Sean already knew who it was and he swore then and there that Sergio would die slowly, and by Sean’s hands.

 

There was a pause in which Hank absorbed what he’d been told, and then Sean heard the old Honda that had been acquired for the babysitting of the blutbad fire up. It was unnaturally loud, proving just how much of a POS the car was. _“We’ll be there in ten.”_

 

Not bothering to ask who “we” was, since he didn’t actually care, Sean hit the ‘end’ button and then put his phone into the inner pocket of his sports coat. He hesitated only a moment before going into the kitchen, grabbing a towel, and then returning to Nick’s side. “What happened?” he asked as he used the towel to apply pressure to the bleeding gash.

 

Nick’s body tensed with pain which only seemed to cause more, leaving the grimm with little breath for talking. Sean didn’t let up on the pressure but he waited patiently for Nick to adjust to the levels so that he could reply. It took far more time than he would have liked but he didn’t condemn the grimm for that. Pain was pain, no matter who you were. Eventually it could be conquered but when you had a concussion to go with everything else, it took longer to make that happen. Once he was ready, Nick swallowed, his wide-eyes briefly focusing on Sean before rolling up in his head as they closed. “Sergio was waiting for me when I came home,” he answered, his voice quiet, strained, and hoarse. There was a pause and then, “We fought.”

 

“It looks like he won,” Sean quipped dryly as his eyes once again roamed over Nick’s body, cataloguing each bruise he could find.

 

“Hey, I got some good hits in too,” Nick returned with a ghost of a smile on his face. It was quickly replaced with a grimace and as the nerves in his body alighted with pain once again.

 

“Where was Kylie in all this?” Given how protective she was of Nick, Sean wondered why the sumnjiv hadn’t joined in the fight. He listened for sounds of her inside the house but he found none.

 

At this, Nick frowned, no doubt just now realizing that he hadn’t heard her either. “I don’t know,” he answered, looking and sounding both puzzled and worried at the same time. He was about to say more but, having realized that he had let up, Sean had pressed harder on the wound, cutting off anything that Nick had been about to say.

 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Sean asked, so that he had the information ready when the doctor came.

 

“Head,” Nick said, swallowing again before answering, “Side. Neck.”

 

It was then that Sean was reminded of the light bruising that he could see ringed around Nick’s neck in the form of fingertips. His eyes went red again and it took longer for him to gain his control back. Sergio had choked Nick! And more than once if the bruising was anything to go by. Well, that, at least, explained Nick’s inability to talk very loudly or clearly. While his voice was normally fairly deep and somewhat gravelly, it now sounded like it was being forced through a haze of rocks before coming out of his throat.

 

Sean recognized Hank’s scent before he realized that the man had entered the house. The regnant within snarled at the intruder and he had to resist the urge to crouch over Nick and snap at anyone who come close. The feeling only intensified when he smelled someone new. When he turned to face the stranger, he calmed a little on seeing that it was Marcie Kisic. He had met her a few times and he knew that she operated in Portland, healing its wesen community as easily as she would have the human one.

 

Behind her stood Monroe and Rosalee, though they looked far less comfortable joining them all in the house than Sean would have expected. He understood the blutbad’s reasoning, his eyes were already a deep red as he took in the smell of Nick’s blood. But he didn’t grasp the fuchsbau’s. After all, she was a healer, like Marcie, if not in a different way. Perhaps it was that this wasn’t simply a patient but a friend? With an inner shake of his head, Sean dismissed the situation entirely. He didn’t actually care if either wesen joined them or not. His sole priority was Nick.

 

“I’m told that I have a patient?” Marcie asked as she stepped onto the porch with a medical bag in her hands. Her easy manner ceased when she noticed the blood on Sean’s hands and she looked down to the floor. “Nick?” she asked on a sigh as she entered. “What have you done to yourself now?”

 

“Sergio,” was all Nick whispered, turning his head to look at the doctor. The wince that had creased his face when he’d spoken turned into a grimace instantly when Marcie pushed back down on the towel which lay over the open wound.

 

It was just one word, one name, but it was more than enough for the group. The one’s that weren’t busy with the patient shared a look with one another and then the two out on the porch quickly came inside. They appeared to be worried that the psychotic grimm was still outside and would attempt to kill them out on the lawn. It was ridiculous as the Latino knew that Sean would tear his throat out for what he’d done to Nick but Sean didn’t give them that assurance. Their fear would keep them careful which, in turn, would help keep them safe.

 

Right now, all he cared about was lying on the floor, slowly bleeding from a whole in his side.

 

**oOo**

Marcie was unpacking her bag and putting on some gloves when she heard the front door close. She looked up to see Monroe and Rosalee standing in the doorway, looking nervous. Once she got her bearings of where everyone was, she refocused on her patient. Nick looked a bruised mess but she knew that it was nothing that wouldn’t heal. Her immediate concern was the, or rather what appeared to be a, knife wound in the middle of his right side. She probed the wound, trying to determine how deep it had gone and if it had hit anything vital so she could know how to proceed. Nick tensed beneath her touch and he ground out a pained groan. He did his best to remain still, however, and she appreciated that to an extent.

 

“I’m going to clean this and then I can get started,” she announced to no one in particular. She was sure they all wanted to know what she was doing. As she spoke, she unwrapped a package of gauze and began to wipe away all the excess blood. Once she had done that, she applied fresh gauze to the wound itself, giving it a chance to soak in some of the newly-seeping blood before she took it away and peered down at the wound.

 

All in all, it wasn’t so bad. Painful, yes. And bleeding profusely, sure. But not bad. Sergio had known what he was doing when he had stabbed Nick. If she had to guess, she would say that the knife he had used hadn’t meant to seriously wound but to simply distract. Actually, looking at all the injuries Nick showed, she would guess that the grimm had been merely _toying_ with Nick. Either she was right, in which Nick was in serious trouble when it came time for the true fight, or she was wrong, which meant that Nick had given almost as good as he had received and that she was right to be wary of the grimms as a species. Right now, neither option mattered as her job was to simply fix what she could.

 

Almost mechanically, Marcie had begun to stitch up Nick without putting any real thought into it. As she placed a fresh gauze pad over the newly-sewn wound and then taped it to Nick’s skin, she was done before she knew it.

 

“How deep was it?” Hank, Nick’s partner, asked. She looked up, somewhat surprised to notice that he was on the other side of Nick, kneeling like she was but keeping enough distance so that he wasn’t hovering. Concern shone in his brown eyes as did determination. Though she hadn’t seen it in the car, this was a strong man, and a protective one. She almost looked forward to watching as this group got their hands on Sergio. Almost.

 

“Not too bad,” she answered, peeling off the gloves and throwing them on top of the trash pile that she had created. Cutting the rest of Nick’s shirt through the middle, she peeled it back to reveal his chest which looked clear of injury, and then peered over at Nick’s left side. Her hands gently pressed against the bruising to make sure that nothing was broken, eliciting another groan from her patient, before she pulled back into her kneeling position. “The knife wound didn’t go too deep. If I had a guess, I would say that Sergio did it as a means of distraction rather than with intent to seriously injure. The bruising around his ribs is deep but nothing is broken.” She rose a little to look at his neck and face before feeling his skull. “He’s got a bump on the back of his head, no doubt from hitting the floor, and he’ll have one heck of a sore jaw for a while, but overall, he’ll be fine.”

 

Although the group had to have known that Nick would be alright, they seemed to let out a collective sigh after her proclamation. No doubt they were all relieved that the knife wound hadn’t been serious but still, Marcie inwardly shook her head. Perhaps it was her knowledge as a doctor but she found it hard to worry about superficial injuries like others did.

 

“You should probably move him someplace more comfortable than the floor, though,” she added as she gathered the trash and stood to throw it away. “I doubt he wants to sleep on the floor.”

 

She walked away to dispose of the things she’d used and then to wash her hands while she was there, leaving the others to decide amongst themselves where they should place Nick. Marcie thought that she heard the grimm try to put his two cents in but the others either couldn’t hear him or didn’t seem to be listening. When she walked out, Nick was cradled in Sean’s arms, the regnant looking defensively protective of the grimm, and the others were standing back. She was about to say something when the police captain focused on her with deep, red, inhuman eyes. Now Marcie understood why the others weren’t making an attempt to approach. She had no doubt that if she were to advance towards her patient, the regnant would morph into his true form and take out the threat it viewed her to be.

 

Without a word to anyone, the police captain turned around and took Nick upstairs, no doubt to his room. Marcie grabbed her bag and followed, still having a couple things to do for Nick before she left.

 

Having made sure to keep a good distance, Marcie made it to the bedroom in time to see Sean gently lay Nick atop the bed. The grimm grimaced with the movement but offered a grateful sleepy-smile while the regnant placed an extra pillow behind Nick.

 

“Something more we can do for you Marcie?”

 

It took a moment for Marcie to realize that Sean had spoken. Though the words had come in his voice, he had his head down and looking at Nick rather than at her. She stepped closer and the head that snapped up and the eyes that focused on her glowed in warning, telling her not to come any further. She sighed as she confirmed that, yes, the regnant was in protective mode. When she’d first met Nick, she had thought that she had smelled the royal on him. But it had been so faint that she hadn’t really paid attention to it. Now she knew why it had been there. The regnant had mated with the grimm and he wasn’t about to let anyone near his wounded grimm unless it was necessary.

 

Figuring it was best not to get in the middle of that, she handed a few instant ice packs over to the regnant who stared at her outstretched hand for a moment before he lifted his own and grabbed them from her. He was gentle in doing so, but he still held her at a distance with his stare.

 

“Apply those to his side, face, and the back of his head,” she instructed without preamble. Reaching into her bag once again, she pulled out the jar of liniment that Nick had given her to study and handed it over as well. “And rub that on his throat as well. The knife wound will have to wait until it is no longer an open cut before you can apply it there, but I will have seen him again before then so you won’t have to worry about that.”

 

“Thanks Doc,” Nick said, his gravelly voice making Marcie wince a little.

 

She smiled down at him. “You’re welcome,” she said. “But try not to talk too much until your throat has healed a little.”

 

He smirked at her, showing precisely how much he planned to comply with that. “I’ll do my best,” he answered before closing his eyes in exhaustion.

 

Marcie looked back up at Sean. “Give him some ibuprofen if the pain gets too bad,” she instructed.

 

Sean nodded his understanding, the movement barely visible. “Thank you Marcie,” he said, shifting his gaze back down to the grimm in the bed.

 

It was her turn to nod, though whether or not he noticed it was beyond her knowledge. She wanted to ask him how long he had been mated to the grimm but she held back. There would be a time for those questions but now was not it.

 

Without another word, she exited the room, closing the door behind her as she went.

 

**oOo**

The rest of the day was relatively peaceful. Sean remained upstairs for most of it, leaving the rest of them to fend for themselves. As no one had any particular desire to leave, they all silently agreed on ordering takeout and hanging out in Nick’s living room. While they waited for their food to arrive, they cleaned up what they could. After seeing Monroe’s eyes fading in and out from their normal brown to red, Rosalee offered to clean up the blood while Hank and Monroe focused on what little had been damaged during the fight.

 

Rosalee was actually impressed by how little had been ruined. With the two grimms, she had actually expected more than the blood from the knife wound and a couple splotches of scrapes and scuff marks on the walls and floor. Leaving Monroe and Hank to make themselves comfortable in the now-spotless living room, Rosalee headed to the kitchen to rinse out the towel and wash her hands. Though she knew that she could scrub at them for hours, she doubted that she would ever get the blood off them. Still, she tried, stopping only when a scratch at the back door drew her attention.

 

After checking to make sure that it wasn’t an enemy wanting in, though why they would essentially knock, Rosalee couldn’t decide, she opened the door and let Kylie in. The lab was dirty, wet, and shivering but she seemed happy as she trotted inside and sat down on the kitchen floor. Kylie panted as she waited for whatever to happen.

 

Rosalee smiled down at the dog and then grabbed a towel from the laundry room to clean her off. “Where have you been, huh?” she asked as she toweled the dog dry, though not clean. Kylie licked her face and she chuckled a little. “There’s been some excitement while you’ve been gone,” she whispered soothingly. “Nick went head-to-head against another grimm.” She paused for a moment, recalling the sight of Nick on the floor. At a whine from Kylie, she continued with the drying, though the dog was mostly dry by this point. “He didn’t exactly win, but he didn’t lose either.”

 

As though Kylie could understand what she had said, the dog wriggled out of her arms and ran upstairs to Nick’s bedroom. Rosalee watched her go in confusion. Dogs could be trained to understand certain commands, and they could instinctually understand the moods of their humans, they couldn’t understand the English language. Yet it seemed like Kylie could.

 

Putting the towel back in the laundry room, Rosalee remembered the tales she’d heard about a breed of wesen who could not only woge into a full-fledged animal, but they stayed in those forms rather than be in their human ones. She couldn’t remember what their name was but that didn’t matter as she also didn’t think they existed. Looking in the direction that Kylie went, Rosalee’s expression remained puzzled.

 

Or did they?

 

**oOo**

Sean sat in the armchair beside Nick’s bed, watching over his grimm like a dark angel. His thoughts had turned even darker, if that was possible, and he had almost run out of ways to imagine torturing and killing Sergio. Almost.

 

The door to Nick’s room opened and in walked the sumnjiv. She was still in her wesen form but Sean had no trouble reading her body language. The dog felt guilty. Even though Kylie was filthy, she jumped up on the bed and lay next to Nick, nosing his hand until it flopped onto her head.

 

“Hey,” Nick rasped, his head turning to look over at the dog. “Where have you been?” Kylie whined, which Sean knew Nick couldn’t understand, and gently licked the right side of his face. “I was beginning to think that Sergio had gotten to you too,” Nick continued, his petting movements slowing to nothing. There was a pause in which Kylie growled at the mention of Sergio’s name, and then Nick said, “It’s good to know there’s one person I haven’t let down.”

 

_Oh Nick,_ Sean thought while keeping any emotion off his face. He wanted to tell the grimm that he hadn’t let anyone down; that he’d done his best but that he also couldn’t save everyone. But empty platitudes weren’t something that Sean was good at and he didn’t plan on trying to change than any time soon. He kept silent as Nick fell into a restless sleep, watching both the grimm and the sumnjiv, albeit for different reasons.

 

He didn’t hold anything against the wesen, per se. It was as much Sean’s fault as it was the sumnjiv’s if it was anyone’s. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but be angry at Kylie for not being there. Anger burned through him. He thought about releasing it now that Nick was taken care of and healing, but he remained where he was.

 

The ringing of his cell phone had him squirming a little later, trying to answer it before it woke Nick up. Upon seeing _Private Caller_ flash on the screen, Sean glared at Kylie, warning her to stay with Nick this time, and then he walked out into the hall. The sounds of a small get together happening on the main floor echoed up to him as he answered, “Yeah.”

 

_“Oh, you sound angry, little brother,”_ Justine said.

 

Sean sighed, doing his best to release some of his anger as he did so. “It’s been a difficult day,” he answered not wanting to get into things over the phone. “Have you arrived in town?”

 

_“Just checked into the Delux,”_ she confirmed with a little purr in her voice. _“I had thought to invite you for dinner but perhaps tonight would not be ideal.”_  

 

For a moment, Sean actually had to think about whom to spend his night with. On the one hand, he felt obligated to spend some time with his sister since he was the reason she was in the States. But on the other, he was loath to leave Nick. His injuries may be minimal and certainly not life-threatening but even so, Sean felt the need to protect and stand guard over his mate. The chatter from downstairs and the sounds of ringing glasses and laughter came up to him once more and Sean suddenly found his decision made.

 

“Dinner would be fine,” he said. Switching the phone into his other hand, Sean looked down at his watch. It was only two o’clock; he’d have plenty of time to watch over Nick before he had to go meet with his sister. “Eight o’clock?”

 

_“Let’s make it seven,”_ she said in so decisive a tone that Sean didn’t even bother to suggest another time. Seven would do just as well as eight. _“Will the grimm be joining us?”_

Sean’s eyes flicked to the hallway wall where he knew Nick was lying in the bed on the other side. “Not tonight. He’s had a rough day.”

 

_“Just my luck that I get into town after all the fun has happened.”_ Sean huffed out a quiet laugh. His sister was practically pouting because she’d missed some excitement and a chance for violence. Little reminders like that helped to dim the guilt Sean would feel when it came to not keeping in touch with his family. Justine sighed overdramatically and asked, _“Will I get to meet him tomorrow?”_

A growl bubbled up in his throat and, in spite of his best efforts, Sean couldn’t stifle it enough to keep her from hearing it. He cleared his throat, thankful when Justine didn’t comment on it, and said, “That will be up to him.” Since Sean hadn’t actually mentioned that his sister was coming into town to Nick, he doubted that the grimm would be all that eager to meet her, but one never knew. Nick was a detective for a reason and leaving secrets and curiosity alone was just the thing that Nick _wouldn’t_ do. He held out hope, however, counting on Nick’s injuries to keep the grimm from being too cavalier in his need to know everything.

 

_“Ah, well, perhaps another day,”_ Justine answered, acknowledging that she doubted the grimm would be eager to meet her. _“I’ll see you at seven. Room 511.”_

With that she hung up which Sean didn’t mind since he didn’t really have anything else to add to the conversation. No doubt, Justine would grill him tonight at dinner about what all was going on and what was being done to stop Pierre, but for now, all that needed to be said had been said.

 

After waiting a moment to listen to the sounds throughout the house, Sean went back into Nick’s bedroom. His grimm lay in exactly the same position he had been left in with Kylie still lying next to him. She raised her head when he entered but after discovering it was just him, she laid it back down and closed her eyes. Sean resumed his seat in the armchair by the window and once again allowed his thoughts to wander while his sense stretched out, waiting for signs that something was wrong.

 

Beyond killing his brother, Sean honestly wasn’t sure what to do with him or about him. Killing Sergio was going to happen one way or another, there was no doubt about that. But Sean couldn’t be sure that that would be enough of an answer to his challenge to satisfy his baby brother or if Pierre would simply keep coming after Nick via more dangerous wesen. He knew that it would be best for them all if Pierre was dead but the trouble that came with that was that it created other problems within the hierarchy; not just Sean’s family but within the system as a whole. It left Pierre’s protectorate open to a hostile takeover where a complete unknown and unfriendly could take over. God only knows what would happen if that came about, but then leaving Pierre where he was wasn’t doing anyone any favors either. No, what Sean needed was a creature of his own making to take over the role. His or Justine’s. If they could get someone that they trusted close to power, someone ruthless enough to take over yet willing to submit to his or his sister’s orders, that would be the ideal.

 

Sean sighed and rubbed his forehead where a tension headache was starting to form. The chances of him or Justine finding someone that fit those qualifications weren’t high. In fact, Sean was willing to be that the technical term for them was ‘slim to none’. There _definitely_ wasn’t anyone within Sean’s protectorate that he would put up for the job, that was for sure. Whether or not the same could be said for Justine was anyone’s guess and, now that he thought about it, he made a mental note to ask her tonight over dinner.

 

While thoughts and plans swirled through his mind, time passed. The outside went from a cloudy day to a forbidding and cold night. All through it, Nick slept, seeming content to let those around him care for him if he needed it; trusting them to take care of themselves if something went wrong. Once or twice he would move in an effort to reposition himself but then pain would still him once again and he’d stop with a groan or a sudden intake of breath.

 

When his watch alerted him that it was time to leave, Sean got up and sat on the bed beside Nick’s him. He had planned to wake Nick but when it came down to it, he simply couldn’t. Instead, he ran a hand down the right side of Nick’s face, tracing his cheekbone and jawbone as he did. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Nick,” he whispered, though he doubted his grimm heard him. In the bed, Nick shifted, as though he sensed something was changing and he wasn’t sure that he wanted it to, but with another touch from Sean, he stilled and fell back into a healing sleep.

 

Sean looked over at Kylie, his manner hardening. “Stay with him this time,” he ordered. Kylie sniffed at him as though to say ‘what else would I be doing?’ and then she, too, went back to sleep.

 

With one final look at the pair, Sean slipped out of the room and left the house to get changed before having dinner with his sister. His last before he’d driven off had been, “I hope this doesn’t turn out like every other family get together has.”

 

**TBC**


	37. Chapter 37

Justine Montblanc Renard stood before the full length mirror in her hotel suite, admiring her reflection while she waited for her brother's arrival. Her form wasn’t what one would consider curvaceous, but her white pencil skirt, snug as it normally is, made it appear so. It accentuated her hips quite deliciously, which was, after all, the whole point of the thing. Coupled with the loose black blouse, her black high heels, and one of her best diamond-studded necklaces, however, Justine had to admit that she looked good enough to eat. A fact that she knew many of the males she had come into contact with today agreed with as she could smell their desire rolling off them.

 

She turned sideways so as to admire herself from a different angle and as she did so, she found her green eyes traveling down towards her stomach. Sadness came over her as she thought of the babe that hadn’t, as yet, filled her womb. When she’d first started out as Guardian of La Plata’s protectorate, she hadn’t desired children or a family. As she hadn’t even found a mate at that time, she knew that they would be a nuisance and a scandal. So, she dutifully gained power, influence, and respect in La Plata, patiently waiting for her mate to arrive. It had taken another five years for Tomás to come into her life and it was another five before they were mated and officially married. That had been seven years ago and Justine, though aging slowly, wasn’t getting any younger.

 

The knock on the door startled her. She had allowed herself to get lost within her own thoughts and desires - something that happened rarely to her - and she had almost forgotten that she was expecting someone. Pursing her ruby-red lips to mime a kiss towards the mirror before walking away, Justine went to let her guest in.

 

Sean looked dapper as always; regal in ways many of the men in their family never could. His suit made one think of James Bond and he carried around the personality of “Police Captain” so easily that it was hard to remember that he was so much more than that. Though she was older than her brother, Justine knew that he could (and would) take her in a fight. He was strong, determined, and, now that he was mated with a Grimm, powerful. His smile upon seeing her was warm but wary, as though he expected some sort of sneak attack.

 

“Sean,” she greeted with warmth in her voice. She stepped back to allow him entrance, which he did after surveying for a trap. What had their family come to when one had to suspicious of one’s own sibling?

 

Ignoring his standoffishness, Justine embraced her brother as soon as her door was closed. He froze under her touch, clearly unsure how to interpret her actions. For the most part, they had maintained a close-yet-distant relationship. They rarely hugged or kept in touch, and yet they both knew without a doubt that they were the closest siblings in their family. If she needed him, she knew that he would be there, with the reverse being true as well.

 

It took a good minute but Sean finally embraced her back, her heels making it hard as she was almost taller than him with them on. “Justine,” he answered with the hint of a sigh in his voice. “It’s good to see you.”

 

Justine stepped back, surveying her brother once again before rolling her eyes. “And you said that with a straight face,” she teased as she led him to the table that she had had sent up for their dinner.

 

He laughed, the smile it brought to his face genuine. “It _is_ good to see you,” he insisted as he sat down and placed the napkin in his lap. “But your timing could be better.”

 

“On the contrary,” Justine argued as she, too, put the napkin in her lap, “I happen to think my timing is perfect.” She poured some white whine while he dished out the food. “We both know that you and your grimm could use my help with Pierre.”

 

He froze for a second before continuing with the ritual of dinner with indifferent grace. Studying him, she could see a tenseness which wasn’t related to his current position at all. His movements were too controlled, as though he were eager to leave but didn’t want to show it. She then remembered that the Grimm was injured, though from what she could gather it was marginally so, and she smiled, hiding it behind her wine glass as she took a sip.

 

“Do you know where he is hiding?” Sean asked while cutting into his ribeye.

 

“No,” she answered simply. “But I have a couple of people looking into it while we eat.”

 

He paused, a bit of asparagus inches from his lips, and then continued to eat. “Do you actually think you’re going to find him?”

 

“Probably not, but it couldn’t hurt to try. My guess is that he’s hiding in Portland. Somewhere close, or possibly somewhere that we wouldn’t think to look for him. Meanwhile, he keeps you and your grimm busy by sending his pet dog to distract you.”

 

“That’s plausible enough but it’s also so simple that _anyone_ could figure that out,” he retorted, this time pausing to take a sip of the whine. There was a gleam in his eyes that Justine couldn’t account for and so she waited, rather impatiently, for him to say what he was thinking. “You do know,” he said just before he patience ran out entirely, “that before we take care of Pierre, we will have to find someone to replace him.”

 

Admittedly, she hadn’t thought of that. Justine had been so focused on finding her younger brother, and killing him, that she hadn’t even contemplated the ramifications of doing so. Africa was a miserable country to try and run, let alone protect. One had to have a certain amount of corruption born in them in order to do both as well as walk the fine line of legality. Up to a point, Pierre had managed. Unfortunately, his corrupt side outweighed the rest of everything that might have been considered good about him and as a result, the warlords, diamond smugglers, arms dealers, and dictators were being allowed to run wild. Father had often remarked that something had needed to be done but as he doted on Pierre the most, it wasn’t likely that something would come of it.

 

Was that what Sean had in mind? Possibly finding someone to take over for when the inevitable happened? It was a good thought but not necessarily easy to accomplish.

 

“And who do you suggest we use?” she asked, wanting to know his opinion before offering her own.

 

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Sean replied nonchalantly.

 

Ah, so he didn’t have someone already in place. Shame.

 

“Sadly, I am as out of ideas as you are, little brother.”

 

It was clear from the gleam in his eyes that he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t voice his disbelief. He watched her for a few seconds longer and then said, “Well, I guess we will both have to find someone if we want to be able to rid ourselves of Pierre.”

 

Justine smiled in response, hoping she hid her dismay. The task, while not impossible, would not be an easy one. Which meant that it would take time, time that she didn’t _want_ to use as she would much rather kill her traitorous brother sooner rather than later. But, Sean had a point. If things were bad in Africa now, it was nothing to what would happen _without_ Pierre’s influence.

 

“Don’t look _so_ disappointed, sister,” Sean murmured, as though he were schooling patience to an underling rather than his older sister. “There’s still fun to be had.”

 

Justine’s eyes glowed a deep red from pure glee, reflecting the color in her brother’s (though she knew that, for him, it meant something else entirely). She knew what Sean was referring to and she was more than happy to help rid Pierre of one of his favorite toys. It had been far too long since something had been taken away from him, and Justine was just the person to see it done.

 

oOo

 

Pain was the first thing to register in Nick’s conscious mind. His throat felt raw, like broken glass now lined it, forcing his breath to pass through it before exiting his body. It wasn’t surprising given that he’d been partially strangled, but it was annoying to say the least. Every inhale brought renewed pain, not just from his throat but from his bruised side as well. He vaguely remembered hearing Marcie say that nothing was broken, which was a good thing, and so he took it as a permission of sorts for him to move around on his own. Which was when the gash in his side chose to send its own pain signals to his brain, making him wince and stifle a hiss of pain.

 

For a long while, Nick simply laid there, attempting to allow his body and brain to adjust to all the different aches while he also tried to find a way to move that wouldn’t make anything hurt worse. When he’d figured that things were as good as they were going to get, he braced his right hand around his torso and half rolled out of the bed and half lifted himself out of it. Once he was sitting up with his socked feet on the floor, Nick gingerly began to push himself off the bed.

 

From behind him, he heard Kylie whine, making it sound as though she were questioning his decision to do that. As he walked around the bed, he looked at her but didn’t respond. For one, he wasn’t _that_ far gone yet, and for another, he was proving that he could and would move around which meant that there was no need to respond. At this, Kylie sat up, her ears partially laid back, and watched him limp his way towards the bathroom. When he’d reached the doorframe, she jumped down from his bed and left the room. Rolling his eyes, Nick shut the door and turned on the shower.

 

Depending on the stitches, you weren’t normally supposed to get them wet. If they weren’t the kind that would eventually dissolve then it didn’t matter, but if they were, then you were supposed to steer clear of water. Since Nick didn’t know which kind he’d been given, he decided to err on the side of caution and so stoppered the bathtub so that he could soak most of his body while making sure not to get the wound wet. It meant that he had to partially lay on his left side, with his back to the door, which wasn’t comfortable for his bruised ribs, but at least he didn’t feel grimy anymore.

 

Getting back out of the tub was a little trickier since he was more sore than when he’d gotten in. Still, his stubbornness won out and he made it with only a little more pain than what he was beginning to believe was going to be normal for a while. He wrapped a towel around his waist, figuring that his torso could make do with an air-dry, and stood in front of the mirror. The bruise on his jaw almost matched the beard that was slowly beginning to grow in. Only the touch of red hinted to the fact that there was more to it than the hair. The bruising around his neck was far more pronounced; the blues and reds and greens of it stood out starkly against his pale skin, even with the day-old beard. The sight of it made him wince. Yeah, that was going to hurt for a while.

 

Since he didn’t even want to see what his torso looked like, Nick stepped away from the mirror and opened the door, stopping when he noticed Hank sitting in the armchair by the window, arms folded across his chest, and Kylie sitting at attention next to it. Both of them were staring in the direction of the bathroom so that when Nick opened the door, their gazes fell onto him. Nick looked down at Kylie, now knowing why she had left, and muttered, “Tattle-tale,” before gingerly walking to his dresser and grabbing clothing from it.

 

“Call me crazy,” Hank said in a tone which hinted at a lecture. “But after getting attacked in your own home, beaten, and then stabbed, you _are_ allowed to stay in bed for a day to recuperate.” He paused and then continued, “At least, that’s what both your doctor and Rosalee said.”

 

“Yeah, well, maybe when there isn’t a psychotic grimm out to kill all of my friends, I will.”

 

The bitterness that Nick felt towards the situation and the anger that welled up in him whenever he thought of Sergio added a bite to his words which he hadn’t meant to include. A swift glance at Hank, however, showed that his friend hadn’t taken offense but he also didn’t seem to believe that it was any sort of excuse, either, as he continued to sit there as though contemplating _making_ Nick get back in bed.

 

Nick’s phone rang, putting an end to any potential arguing. Hank waited a couple rings before he, reluctantly, handed the device over to Nick. He checked the caller ID before hitting the TALK button, “Holly? What’s up?”

 

_“He’s taken Roddy.”_

 

Nick, who was in the middle of painfully putting a long-sleeved shirt on, froze. His heart began to hammer in his chest as adrenaline shot through his system and he had to bite back a groan when he continued with the clothing. “Who took him?”

 

“ _He looked latino,”_ she answered with a hint of panic in her voice. _“I tried to make him stay with Craig, but Roddy got restless and went out on his own. I went with him, figuring that two was safer than one, but the guy pounced on us before we were aware of what was going on.”_

 

“Where were you guys going?” Nick asked, his anger at their inability to follow directions rising the more she spoke.

 

 _“Roddy didn’t like staying with Craig,”_ Holly answered, _“He seemed to think that he’d be better off with Monroe. We were almost to his house when the grimm got us.”_

 

“Wait, so he’d grabbed you both?” Hank interrupted. By now Hank had his full attention on the call, as Nick had put it on speaker so they could both hear it. Both of them we're heading downstairs so the others could hear as well, but it was Hank who was holding the phone, and therefore leading the conversation to a degree.

 

 _“At first, yeah,”_ Holly said. _“But then, he let me go. He told me to call Nick and tell him what had happened. He said to say that ‘more will follow if you don’t come to me on your own’. What the hell does he want from you, Nick?”_  

 

“It’s complicated,” Nick answered, wincing when his body began to hurt more. “Did he say where to find him or anything that could give us a clue of where to start?”

 

There was a pause in which he assumed that the girl was thinking, and then she said, _“Yeah, he said that you could find him ‘where your angel waited for you to save her’.”_

 

The group around Nick as a whole seemed to freeze then. They all knew what Sergio meant by that, of course, but they knew that the girl didn’t. Trying to keep how much the phrase had hurt out of his voice, Nick said, “Okay, Holly. I’ll get him back.”

 

 _“Nick, you can’t go there,”_ Holly said, more urgently than he would have expected. After all, it was one of her closest friends on the line if he didn’t. So why was she urging him _not_ to go?

 

“Holly, if there’s a way for me to save Roddy,” Nick began only to be cut off by the blurbed on the phone.

 

_“You can’t save him, Nick. The grimm made me watch as he killed him.”_

A growl rumbled close by his ear and Nick inwardly jumped until he realized that it had been Monroe, who looked angry, almost murderous. There were certain things that you didn’t do with kids, especially this one, and that was make them suffer more than they already had. It just goes to show you that there is no end to what Sergio thought too cruel.

 

“Then what is Nick’s incentive to go?” Hank asked, no doubt voicing his thoughts aloud more so than expecting an answer.

 

Another pause followed this, where the group each tried to think of their own answers. But it was Holly who answered, _“He has kids with him, Nick.”_ Another pause and then, _“Bud’s kids.”_

oOo

 

Rosalee sat on Nick’s couch, her mind awhirl with so many thoughts and feelings that she simply couldn’t sift through them before the overwhelmed her. She’d only met the eisbiber once, maybe twice, but she knew that he was a good man and didn’t deserve to get mixed up in all this. Not that, any of them deserved it, per se, but his _kids_?! She honestly felt sick thinking of what those poor children were going through at this moment. The chances were good that if Sergio had made Holly watch Roddy’s death then he had also made the kids as well. God, what a thought!

 

“Nick, you should sit down, man.”

 

Monroe’s voice brought her back to their reality, a place she would rather not be, and her focus sharpened onto the grimm. He was pacing in between the foyer and the living room. Anger was etched in every pore, from his stride to his expression. His posture was rigid, showing the pain that it was causing him to stay upright, but he didn’t seem to be mentally aware of it yet. Even so, Rosalee agreed with Monroe - Nick _should_ sit down; it wasn’t good for him to be moving so much.

 

Nick however, seemed to disagree. The grimm spun to face his friend, and it was then that Rosalee got a look at the small blood staining the white shirt that Nick wore. When had that happened? Fury shone out of Nick’s eyes, but where as with most people it would have given them some heat, in this instance it made them look, and feel, like ice.

 

Amazingly, they had all managed to talk him in to not immediately going to Juliette’s apartment, but only barely and with the promise of brute force from both Monroe and Hank. Now, as he looked at each one of them in turn, Rosalee wished that they hadn’t bothered. His gaze was unsettling, promising violence to the next person who misspoke. Through all that Nick had gone through, Rosalee had _never_ seen this side of him. She now counted her blessings for that and wished that she had gone a bit longer before being exposed as it made her skin crawl and she had to stop her hands from reaching for her throat - this was the look that most grimms got just before they cut your head off.

 

“Has anyone told Bud that his children are missing?” Nick asked and Rosalee’s heart sank even further. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Bud may not know. She had simply assumed that, since school was not in session that he had known. But then, she rationalized, if he _had_ known, he would have been here already, if not to demand answers then to ask for help.

 

As if on cue, a frantic knock sounded on the front door. Well, that answers that question, at least. Hank threw a glare at Nick and then went to go answer it.

 

“Hank, oh thank God you’re here, I need yours and Nick’s help.” Bud’s voice was stronger than Rosalee remembered it being, less frantic, though worry was clearly evident, and more determined.

 

Nick had continued his pacing when Hank had moved and he now stood just to the right of the couch. Out of her peripheral, Rosalee saw him clench his jaw as his arm wrapped around his torso and not for the first time she wondered how much he was hurting right now. Then she remembered the blood spot and figured that he was trying to hide it from the eisbiber who had other things to worry about then the potential savior of his children being unable to save anyone.

 

“We already know, Bud,” Nick assured him in a very different tone than what he’d used on all of them not long ago. It was gentle, caring, one that Rosalee had heard him use on victim’s relations. “We’re going to get them back.”

 

That brought the eisbiber up short and for a second he stood with his mouth open, gaping at Nick. Then, just like a snap of the fingers, the spell was broken and he was wringing his hands and all but screaming fear. “How do you know? What do you know? Has somebody called you?”

 

“Holly called us,” Rosalee said, slowly standing up. It didn’t seem right to sit now that literally everyone in the house was standing. “She told us that another grimm has your kids.”

 

“Did she tell you what the other grimm wanted?” Bud asked, anxious and moderately hopeful. “Or is he like all the others and simply going to,” he made a motion of someone slicing his throat but she knew that he’d meant.

 

“He wants me,” Nick said. His tone was determined but Rosalee thought that she could hear an undercurrent of guilt as well and she had to stifle the urge to grab his hand and give it a squeeze. It wasn’t Nick’s fault that any of this was happening. But the fact that everyone who had been hurt and/or killed had known him in one way or another made it seem like it was and the idiot grimm gladly took the blame onto his shoulders without question or complaint.

 

“Wants you to do what?” Bud asked, clearly not getting it.

 

“He wants a trade,” Hank explained. “Nick for your kids.”

 

A number of things flitted across Bud’s face. Relief at getting his kids back was the most dominant, then guilt for thinking of trading his friend’s life so easily, then fear for that friend’s life, then, surprisingly, anger. Rosalee couldn’t think of a time when she had _ever_ seen an eisbiber angry and so she couldn’t account for it at all. Was he angry that this had happened to him? Or was he angry at Sergio? Or, though it was unlikely, was he angry at Nick?

 

There were tears in Bud’s eyes as he asked, “You’re going to do it, right? You’re going to get them back?”

 

The very words seemed to hurt both Bud and Nick. While Bud let he tears flow down his cheeks, Nick refused to do so and held them at bay. They stayed in his eyes and Rosalee could hear the pain in his voice when he spoke. “Bud, I’m going to do all that I can to bring your kids back.”

 

Bud’s eyes widened, which confused Rosalee. The statement was no more than what the eisbiber had wanted to hear, so then why did he look so shocked? She looked over to Nick and saw that he had lowered his arm, his hands balled into fists at his sides and standing tall and strong. It could have been an imposing image had it not been for the now-larger stain of blood on the shirt.

 

“Are you hurt?” Bud asked. His eyes traveled from the stain up to Nick’s neck for a time before landing on the face. “What happened to you?”

 

“I’m fine,” Nick lied through his teeth, drawing a scoff from both Monroe and Hank. “I spilled some ketchup on the shirt, that’s all.”

 

Bud opened his mouth to argue but stopped. His eyes once again roamed Nick’s form, focusing in on the spot on the shirt and the bruise about Nick’s neck, flitting back and forth between the two. “Are you the reason that the grimm took my kids?”

 

Rosalee didn’t think that Bud could have asked a more poignant and hurtful question. She closed her eyes as she imagined the impact it would have on Nick, tears springing to her eyes at the thought of the entire situation. She felt sick again, but this time her anger was building and instead of wanting to throw up, she wanted to tear Sergio’s throat out.

 

“Not that I blame you, I mean,” Bud stammered into the stifling silence. He trailed off when he noticed that his words weren’t having any effect and settled for looking, almost pleadingly, at Nick.

 

“No,” both Hank and Monroe said after he’d shut up, defending their friend loyally. But Nick’s firm, “Yes,” drowned them both out and forced them to look at the grimm, Rosalee included. Now, Nick was crying, though refusing to admit it. Tears ran freely down his cheeks, his guilt written in his face. His eyes, however, were still unforgiving and cold. “He wanted me,” Nick explained, wincing. He waved a hand at his throat and said, “I refused, and it seems that in retaliation, he took your kids, Holly, and Roddy Geiger.” He swallowed, fighting down Lord-only-knows-what emotion. “We already know that Roddy is dead and he let Holly go with a message for me. I was just about to meet him when you arrived.”

 

Although nothing of the kind had been said before Bud had arrived, Rosalee didn’t think that Nick had told a lie. It was clear to her that he _would_ have left much sooner if it hadn’t been for them. The fact that he’d been seconds away from physically forcing his way through them only helped to drive the point home - Nick would be making the trade, no matter _what_ anyone said.

 

Bud didn’t seem to know what to say to that. It was clear that, on the one hand, he didn’t want to command his friend, a grimm, to trade his life for that of his kids, but on the other, he did. The eisbiber fidgeted, wringing his hands some more and opening then closing his mouth as every single thought seemed to fail to come out. He then looked to Monroe and Rosalee for help but no such thing was to be given as they were all in the same boat as Bud.

 

When it seemed that no other word was to be said, Nick stepped forward, past Bud, Hank and Monroe, and grabbed his keys. He was partially out of the house before anyone thought to catch up to him, to stop him.

 

“Oh no,” Monroe said, grabbing hold of Nick’s left wrist and pulling hard. “You are not going to sacrifice yourself like some martyr.” 

 

Given how angry Monroe was, Rosalee knew that he had put all of his strength into the motion. She saw how his knuckles grew white from lack of blood as his grip tightened onto Nick and she saw the pain it had caused Nick, but she also saw that he wouldn’t give in.

 

“Monroe,” she said, hating herself for what she was about to do. But she couldn’t let innocent kids suffer, even for the sake of Nick. “Let him go.”

 

Monroe, with his grip still on Nick, whipped his head to glare at Rosalee with blood-red eyes. It was then that she fully understood Nick’s relationship with Monroe. The blutbad had adopted Nick into his pack; the grimm was family and there wasn’t anything that Monroe wouldn’t do for his family. The idea that one of them was willingly going to, more than likely, die was not something that Monroe could and would allow.

 

Hoping that he would eventually forgive her, Rosalee stepped closer and closed her hand over his. Very slowly, she made him release Nick, ignoring the red indents that Monroe’s fingers had made, and held his fist in hers. “He needs to do this,” she said softly, imploringly.

 

“I’ll be alright, Monroe,” Nick assured. She then saw him look at Hank, “Tell the Captain where I’ve gone and what’s happened. He will probably be your best shot at finding me.”

 

And with that said, Nick walked out the door and to his car. Tears fell from Rosalee’s face when she heard his Toyota truck start up and she wondered if she’d ever see him alive again.

**TBC**


	38. Chapter 38

When he had pulled up to the house, Sean knew that something wasn’t right. He could feel it in the air, a building tension that seemed almost stifling. Yet there was no sense of Nick in it, which made him curious as he had fully expected to find a thoroughly frustrated grimm being held under house arrest by his friends. With the front door hanging open, his mind jumped to a conclusion that he didn’t want to think about and he found himself heading for the house before he could rationalize what he was doing. Upon finding Hank, Monroe, Rosalee, and Bud inside, all safe and unharmed, his heart rate slowed down. It meant that nothing had broken in and taken Nick, which meant that Nick was still alright.

 

It was then that he searched for Nick within the house and found no sign of him. He looked around at the group, immediately dismissing the eisbiber as unimportant. Instead, he focused on the other three, whom looked distinctly..unhappy. The blutbad was furious, the fuschbau resigned, and Hank appeared to lay somewhere in between.

 

“Where is he?” Sean asked, his voice coming out far more calm than he felt.

 

“Sergio offered Nick a trade,” Hank spoke up. He spoke quietly but calmly, as though he were simply relaying facts and nothing more. “Bud’s kids for Nick.”

 

Sean’s gaze landed on the eisbiber, who squeaked and went to stand behind the blutbad. Now, instead of simply searching the house, Sean sent a search through their bond, calming only slightly when he got an immediate response. Nick was _angry_. There was an ice to it that calmed Sean’s own fury, but only barely. Below that raging fire was pain, which made sense as Nick was also injured. Nick’s response, while communicating how he felt, also tried to reassure him, as though Nick was telling him that he was fine and that he knew what he was doing, both of which, while might be true for the moment, certainly wouldn’t remain that way.

 

“Where did he go?” he asked, biting back on the accusatory retort that he’d wanted to snap out instead. What was done was done. There wasn’t any use in condemning them for it, especially when Sean doubted they would have been able to stop Nick without seriously hurting him.

 

At first no one seemed eager to answer. They all stared at one another, expecting someone else to respond first. A growl bubbled in Sean’s chest and, for once, he allowed his control to slip and his inner regnant to come forth. With his mate in trouble, he wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to restrain himself. All flinched from him, though Hank only did so for a second before becoming somewhat awed and intrigued by the sight.

 

“Where…did…he…go?” Sean bit out, the words sounding close to a snarl.

 

“Juliette’s apartment,” the fuschbau finally answered, albeit hesitantly.

 

Sean didn’t waste another second. Reigning in what little control he could muster, he shut the regnant away for a bit, choosing to drive rather than fly as it was broad daylight. Pulling out his phone as he started his truck, he dialed Justine’s number.

 

 _“Miss me so soon, little brother?”_ she answered with a smile in her voice.

 

“Sergio has Nick,” he said in reply, peeling away from the curb and heading towards the horror show that was Juliette’s apartment.

 

_“Where?”_

 

He gave her the address and then disconnected the line. Sean knew that she would meet him there and help him track down Sergio. There was no doubt in his mind that the bastard would move Nick, would take him somewhere so that no rescue would be quick in coming. But it would be easier to find them both with himself _and_ Justine tracking them. Come to think of it, he probably should have brought the blutbad along as well, as he was just as familiar with Nick’s scent as Sean was.

 

Figuring it would be best to have all hands on deck on this one, he picked up his phone from the passenger side and dialed Hank. When the detective answered, he said, “Have Monroe meet me at the apartment,” and then hung up again. It was un-Captain like of him to be so curt with them but at the moment he couldn’t care less; it was _very_ Guardian-like and he had every right to be short. His self-sacrificing, idiotic, grimm was in trouble and there wasn’t _anything_ that was going to keep Sean from finding him.

 

oOo

 

Nick walked into Juliette’s apartment and froze. Blood lined the walls, tiny strips of it as though someone had dipped an overused paintbrush into a bucket of it and drew a single line, pointing towards the bedroom. With a sinking stomach he soon noticed that they were single finger markings, attempted to be close enough to one another to represent a uniform line. Thankfully, the fingers were too big to be a child’s, therefore they were an adult’s, but even so, it was disturbing how comfortable a person could be with fresh blood.

 

Doing his best to swallow his fear and hide his emotions behind a barrier in his mind, Nick stepped forward, slowly heading towards the bedroom where Juliette had been tortured and slaughtered and then left as a testament of artwork for the deranged. Seeing her had about made him break down completely. He didn’t know how long he had just stood there, staring at what Sergio had done to her, silently weeping. Her body had, of course, been removed but he was wary of what he would find waiting for him when he entered the room a second time.

 

Pain throbbed through his side and he could feel the stab wound seeping blood with every twist or turn of his torso, leaving him to walk slower than he normally would. Rather than trying to control them, he reveled in them. They kept him grounded to reality, kept him moving and determined. He knew that anger would only sustain him for so long and so he counted on the pain to keep him conscious instead, while hoping against hope that Sean wouldn’t take too long to find him.

 

Something akin to panic vibrated through the bond in the back of his mind and he smiled in spite of himself. So, Sean had figured out that he wasn’t safely tucked away at home and was worried about him; well it had to happen sooner or later. He answered back with as much reassurance as he could, allowing more than a little of his anger seep through as well. He wasn’t a damsel-in-distress; he didn’t need saving yet and he needed Sean to understand that. Whether or not he chose to accept it was another matter entirely.

 

The damned door actually creaked when he opened it. Since it definitely hadn’t when he was first here, Nick knew that Sergio had purposely made it do so which could mean that he either wanted it as a sign of Nick’s arrival, or that he wanted to be overdramatic. Given Nick’s impression of the bastard, he opted for the former and so hesitated before entering the room. He checked behind the door, knowing that he wouldn’t find the other grimm there, and then checked the other corners as well as he could, tactfully ignoring what remained of Roddy Geiger in the middle of the room.

 

He was just about to step further in when he heard footsteps behind him. Hesitating, Nick was in the process of turning around when he felt more than saw the impact to his head. It wasn’t lightly done and before long, darkness welcomed him into its waiting embrace.

 

oOo

 

Monroe arrived at Juliette’s apartment in what he thought was record time. After all, he had beat the regnant and Hank there. Yet, he still had the sense that he was too late; that the psychotic grimm had already grabbed Nick and had disappeared. Acting on the instinct, he headed up to the apartment, unsurprised to find it unlocked and abandoned.

 

Blood immediately overwhelmed him. Within seconds it was everything he smelled, saw, and tasted. His inner blutbad reveled in it, lapping it up like a dog thirsty for water after a hard run. In spite of his desire to rid himself of it, Monroe didn’t try to shake it off. Instead, he soaked it in, became familiar with it so that he could soon distinguish whose it was. Roddy was prevalent, but a bit of Juliette was in there too. Following the scents, he found himself heading down the hall to the right where the Roddy-to-Juliette ratio began to even out. It wasn’t until he’d gotten to the door that he found what he was looking for - Nick’s blood.

 

There wasn’t much of it. Only a speck in contrast to the rest but it was enough for Monroe. He honed in on it, letting it drown out all the rest so that all he smelled was Nick’s scent and Nick’s blood. Now that he had it, Monroe noticed little droplets of it behind him, as though Nick was slowly bleeding onto the carpet as he, too, walked down the hallway.

 

_Of course he was bleeding, you idiot! He’d been stabbed not twelve hours ago and had torn his stitches open shortly before leaving! Damnit Nick, why do you have to be so..you?!_

The front door creaked and Monroe spun, eyes red, half woged, only to see the Guardian and another, very attractive woman in the doorway. With a calming breath and a shake of his head, Monroe let go of his blutbad self and exited the hallway.

 

“Found something?” the Guardian asked, not bothering to introduce the other person.

 

Monroe nodded, “Nick’s blood. Not a lot of it, so he’s alright for right now, but given the state of the room, I don’t know how long that will be true.”

 

“Can you track it?” the female asked in a British accent. Her voice was rich, cultured, but her tone was no-nonsense. She knew what he was and, going by her scent, he knew what, or who, she was, at least in theory.

 

_Oh great, another regnant!_

 

“If he happens to leave a blood trail to where he’s going, yeah, but since that isn’t very likely, I’m going to need a more specific location.” His tone was flippant at best and right now, he couldn’t be bothered to care. The Guardian’s relative should know better than to ask stupid questions.

 

“What about his scent?” the female returned, not showing whether or not she was affected by Monroe’s attitude.

 

“I can give it a try, yeah, but with everything else out there, I won’t guarantee any results.”

 

To be perfectly honest, Monroe hadn’t ever really _tried_ to track Nick in that way. Until now, there hadn’t really been a need to. Something at the back of his memory suggested something but he couldn’t quite grasp it. He zoned out as he tried to remember what it was. Something about the Guardian finding Nick in a forest… What was it? There!

 

He turned his attention to the Guardian and said, “Can’t you track him? You did it before, didn’t you?”

 

The other man showed no reaction to his knowledge. He didn’t express anything, actually, just stood there, looking a mixture between blasé and ready to murder something. It was quite a spectacle to see, really, as many people couldn’t pull that off.

 

“Like you, I would have to be in the vicinity,” he finally answered. His eyes shone red and Monroe thought it best that, when he did locate Nick, he let the Guardian find his specific location and get him. Something about that look told him that Monroe wouldn’t live through the attempt if he tried to do it.

 

“So, what, we just wait for a big sign that says, ‘Nick is here!’?”

 

Monroe was getting frustrated. The more they all talked, the less their chances were of finding Nick. They weren’t great as they stood now, but given time, they would reduce dramatically.

 

The look that both of the regnants gave him told him what they thought of his suggestion. Simply put, they thought that he was being an idiot, though he was sure they would have put it in a far more sophisticated way. But since he wasn’t hearing any alternatives, Monroe didn’t really give a crap what they thought.

 

Rather than wait for more pointless chatter, Monroe inhaled deeply once more, gathering enough of Nick’s scent to ensure that he could catch it outside. Once he was sure that he had had enough of it, Monroe strode past the two regnants and left. Whatever the two Guardians were going to do, it likely wasn’t going to include him. Right now, his friend, a member of his pack, needed him.

 

oOo

 

When the darkness released him, Nick awoke to the feeling of being in a slow-moving dryer. It took the fog clearing his head for him to realize that he was in the back of, what appeared to be, a van and that he was bouncing along to the rhythm of the road. It made the bruising in his side bloom with pain. He could feel liquid dripping onto his right side, slightly tickling him, but he didn’t pay either of them as much attention as he did the drum line sounding off inside his head.

 

Another bump had him groaning as his head bounced against the metal floor of the van. Stars briefly clouded his vision before settling back in the sky where they belonged, which was when Nick decided that he’d better take a look at what his surroundings were. It probably wouldn’t do him any good but, perhaps he could be used to identify it later on when he wasn’t within the mad clutches of a psychopath.

 

Even in the dimming night, Nick could tell that the inside was a depressing grey, interspersed with rust stains. It was so cliché that it was disappointing. The least this guy could have done was store Nick in a disco-themed van or something. Not that it would make being kidnapped any better but it would at least show that Sergio had an imagination _beyond_ the gruesome. Evidently, that was too much to hope for.

 

One last bump sent him sliding towards the back of the van where he gracelessly collided with the metal wall. The engine powered down then, telling him that wherever Sergio was taking him, they had arrived. Given that he didn’t know how long he’d been out, he wasn’t sure how far from Portland they had come but if he had to guess, Nick would say that they were far from any form of help.

 

The sounds of footsteps sounded just above his head and Nick tracked them to the end of van where the doors opened. Nick was extremely surprised to find that it wasn’t Sergio who was the driver, but someone else that he didn’t recognize. The man had the same height and build as Sergio, but this guy was clearly of European descent. He had dark brown hair and eyes but he was just as pale as Nick was, if not paler.

 

“So, you’re the grimm,” he said in a deep voice that should have belonged to a large, black man, rather than the one that currently stood before Nick. Deep though the voice was, it was also accented with a little bit of German, leading Nick to believe that he was foreign. A jolt of electricity shocked through him, distracting him with intense heat and pain. It wasn’t something that Nick had been subjected to often, but he had experienced the shock from a cattle prod once in his life, so he knew, on some level, what was being done to him. “You don’t seem so tough to me.”

 

“Kurt!” a new voice snapped with a hint of a French accent. “Leave ze grimm alone.”

 

Through tear-filled eyes, Nick looked at his “savior”. The man was relatively short - shorter than Nick, that was for sure - pudgy, with blond hair and green eyes. He looked _nothing_ like Sean, yet Nick knew, almost instinctively, that this was Sean’s brother, Pierre.

 

“Nice to meet you at last, Nicholas,” Pierre said with an almost gleeful smile on his face. “I have been looking forward to this for some time.” The smile turned to a long-suffering pout as he added, “You have _no_ idea how hard it is to be patient when you really want something. But Father insisted that I wait, and now, here we are!”

 

“Here we are,” Nick echoed in a raspy voice. His throat felt dryer than the Sahara and his body pulsed with pain. The electricity had forced his bruised and damaged muscles to contract, making it harder for him to breathe. Yet, without fail, he inhaled and exhaled, however shallowly. He had wanted to say more but then Kurt grabbed him and hauled him out of the van.

 

Nick felt like he was flying for a second until he crashed to the ground with a very painful connection. He cried out, curling into a ball as he felt something inside him tear and break. Rationally, he realized that it had probably just been a rib breaking but it felt so much worse than that. The bruising to his side, which had before been a deep throb, now burned with intensity. It felt as though the sun were searing through him with every breath he took, alighting his nerves on fire. Tendrils of said fire spread throughout his chest with every beat of his heart and Nick was hard-put to hold the tears at bay.

 

Before he could even pull a reasonable amount of air into his lungs, Nick felt himself being dragged. Rocks, pebbles, broken branches, twigs, and leaves pulled, rolled, scratched, and scraped at the skin on his back as his shirt and coat were pulled up to his shoulders. A small part of him told him that he should try to resist, try to fight against what was happening to him. But another, larger part, said that, for now, he should just go with it. Even if he got free now, he wasn’t in any shape to try and get away; better to wait, to get stronger and more secure in his location before he pulled anything.

 

Thanks to the somewhat rough treatment he was receiving, Nick didn’t have time or presence of mind to look about him, to try and see where he was being taken. He did know that the debris soon changed from the standard things one would find on a forest floor to simple stone, sharp-edged and rough though it may be. Nick felt his skin tear but those wounds seemed superficial to the pain that he was already feeling from his previous injuries. Still, he knew that he would feel them later and he only hoped that they wouldn’t get infected.

 

Being so disoriented, Nick was completely unaware of time and so wasn’t sure how long he’d been dragged before he was tossed into a what looked like a small, underground prison, circa the 1400s. Hay lined the floor, strewn about the area to come to a higher mound, which Nick supposed was to be his bed, in the far right corner. Sadly, Kurt hadn’t been aiming for it when he’d unceremoniously thrown Nick in, barely missing hitting his head on the stone wall which connected with three different sides to form a sort of cell.

 

“Sleep well, Grimm,” Kurt hissed contemptuously. “Tomorrow, your trial begins.”

 

And with that, the lean German pulled a thick wooden door closed, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts and only the light outside the door to illuminate his new surroundings. Left in total darkness, Nick slept, allowing unconsciousness to overcome him for the second time that day.

 

oOo

 

“Captain?”

 

Sean’s head snapped up upon hearing Hank’s voice. He had been sitting at his desk, looking at the papers on it without truly concentrating on them. When the blutbad had left Juliette’s apartment, Sean and Justine had gone on their own form of manhunt, attempting to find Nick, to follow his trail in the city. But experienced at hunting prey, they might be, hunting down a grimm was not something they had been trained to do; especially when one considered that said grimm was inside a vehicle which completely masked his scent. They’d lost it less than a mile from the apartment. They had, however, been able to determine that it hadn’t been Sergio who had taken him, but someone else entirely. Since neither of them had recognized the new wesen’s scent, they had still had nothing to go on and so they had stopped searching entirely.

 

Not long after that, Sean had headed to the precinct, knowing that he still had a job to do and was expected to keep up appearances, no matter what may be going on in his personal life. But his heart hadn’t been in the work and so, under the pretense of a lot of paperwork, he had closed his door and chosen to focus, instead, on the bond that he and Nick shared.

 

It was hard to reach for at first, as though it were sleeping and was groggily trying to wake up. Sean pulled back, wanting to make sure that it was nothing on his side of the bond before trying again. He searched for it and felt it almost immediately. It was fresh, sharp, and ready. His own soul’s part of the bond was perfectly in tact, and yet, Sean could also tell that something was wrong with it. It felt..incomplete. Ignoring that, Sean then pushed forward, attempting to connect to Nick through it. He felt nothing and it worried him. At first he wrote it off as Nick merely sleeping or unconscious, but then a nagging feeling began to peck at him.

 

He had just decided to bring up the topic with the fuchsbau when Hank had called his name. The worry was instantly replaced with annoyance but he hid it behind a mask of calm indifference and sat back into his chair, folding his hands in his lap.

 

Upon seeing that he had Sean’s attention, Hank stepped further into the office and closed the door. “Anything?” he asked, clearly anxious, though trying to hide it.

 

Sean bit back the first thing that came to his mind – that, if he _had_ found something that possibly led to Nick, he would have been out there tracking it down and not sitting in his office being completely useless. Since he knew that Hank wasn’t being obtuse on purpose; he was simply worried about his friend and, hating the idea of being idle, was hoping that Sean had heard something in the last few hours that the detective could look into, Sean opted for patience rather than anger.

 

“No,” he replied with a sigh. “I lost his scent after two blocks.” He contemplated alerting Hank to the fact that he was having trouble connecting with Nick through the bond as well but he decided against it. There was no need to worry Hank further as there could be a simple explanation for it. “Have you heard from Monroe?”

 

“He called about an hour ago,” a slight shrug, “said he slowly tracking Nick through the smell of the vehicle that he thought Nick had been taken in. Last I heard, he was heading towards east Portland, but he said the scent was getting fainter.”

 

Why would the kidnappers take Nick to east Portland? Unless.. “Do you think they could be taking Nick _out_ of Portland?” he asked Hank as the idea came to him. Both he and Justine had assumed that Pierre would be in Portland, but what if the bastard had chosen to hide just outside of Sean’s domain? “Possibly to one of the forests or mountain ranges?”

 

“It’s what I would do if I were to kidnap someone,” Hank answered. A fire sparked within the detective’s brown eyes and he seemed more at attention. “A lot of them are secluded, there’s little foot traffic this time of year, and unless there’s suspicious activity, the authorities tend to leave them alone.”

 

“There’s too much area to search by ourselves,” Sean amended, playing devil’s advocate to the hope that he saw blooming in Hank. “Contact the rangers at Mount Hood, Ochoco, Willamette, Gifford Pinchot, and Mount Reyner, see if any of them have noticed anything unusual in the past three weeks.”

 

“But Nick’s only been gone for a few hours,” Hank objected, confused.

 

“Pierre would have come in long before Nick was taken,” Sean reasoned. “Chances are that he’s been hiding out while we’ve been chasing Sergio.”  Another thought occurred to him and he added, “Also, try to contact the Warm Springs and Yakama reservations, see if they’ll willingly give us any aid or information.”

 

“You think they’re hiding on Native land?” Hank sounded skeptical but he made note of it all the same. Clearly, anything that could help them narrow down the areas to search was to be attempted.

 

“What better place to hide than where the local Portland authorities have no jurisdiction?” Sean countered in a wry tone. Not that that would stop him, of course, but Pierre could be thinking that Sean would be trying to get the Portland PD on the case rather than simply handling the matter by himself. Pierre had never been a good chess player; he’d never had the patience to consider all the options open to him, choosing for what was easiest or best for himself rather than plan and contemplate the other player.

 

“Should we get Wu and the uni’s to help?”

 

That was something that Sean had been debating for the past two hours. On the one hand, things would progress much faster with Wu and his cronies helping. But on the other, things could also get a lot more complicated. Wu was loyal; he cared about those that he worked with and he seemed particularly close to Nick and Hank, whom didn’t look down on him because they were detectives and Wu was “only a Sergeant”. If the man knew that Nick was, not only injured (which was Sean’s first impulse for an excuse) but also missing, Wu would stop at nothing until the grimm was found. Then again, how much longer did Sean truly believe that he could hide the wesen world from Wu?

 

Before the word of a new grimm in town had spread, it had been relatively easy to hide the ‘other’ world from the humans. But with Nick taking on more and more wesen cases, and helping out more than killing, the wesen of the world, those lower who hoped that the new grimm would keep them safe from the more bestial ones, had begun to flock to Portland. Normally that wasn’t something that the humans would notice, but with the prime “flock” all in one place, the more dangerous wesen also came, hoping for easy prey, which in turn meant more crimes that the human authorities were subject to looking in to. Sean knew that it wouldn’t be long before Wu and the others started noticing the weirder side of Portland and, though he hadn’t intended to bring the Sergeant in at all, he was beginning to wonder if it might not be wise to start introducing him sooner rather than later.

 

“Captain?” Hank asked, bringing Sean back from his internal debate and into the office once more.

 

“Bring Wu in,” he decided. “Tell him that Nick was out on a case when he’d been attacked and then, consequently, taken.”

 

“But leave out the parts with the monsters and the familial relation,” Hank finished, no doubt knowing that Sean had intended to add that. “Got it.”

 

Wasting no more time, the detective left, closing Sean’s office door behind him. Setting aside the paperwork, Sean pulled his laptop closer to him and opened it. He surveyed the territory that he had asked Hank to cover and check out and his heart dropped a little. There was a lot of it. Even if they had the entire precinct searching, it would still take them days, if not weeks. Sean loathed the idea of giving Pierre that long with Nick but, at the moment, he didn’t know what more he could do. Perhaps with both him and Justine searching, they could reduce some of the time, but that was also a risk as Pierre would be looking for them, expecting them even.

 

With a sigh of frustration, Sean shut his laptop and grabbed his coat. Maybe something would come to him while he was discussing the bond with the fuchsbau.

 

_Hold on Nick!_

**TBC**

 


	39. Chapter 39

Bottles clinked together as Rosalee reached to grab the one that she needed. After Monroe, Hank, and the regnant had left Nick’s house, she had come to the shop to keep her mind busy. Much as she wanted to join in the hunt for Nick, she knew that she wouldn’t be of much help. She’d heard from Monroe about an hour ago, telling her that he was on his way back, but nothing more. It had been evident from his voice that he had felt dejected and therefore there had been no need for her to ask how it had gone.

 

The bell to the shop rang, alerting her that she had a costumer. She turned around, expecting to see yet another frightened wesen who wanted a calming draught, and stopped short when she found the regnant standing there instead. “Sean,” she greeted, doing her best to hide her surprise, “what can I do for you?”

 

He smirked, finding something funny, though what it was she hadn’t a clue. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.” She had opened her mouth to ask what about when he answered that question for her, “About the bond.”

 

Right. Oookay. That was unexpected and since Rosalee wasn’t necessarily an expert, she wasn’t sure how much help she could provide, but she wasn’t about to tell the Guardian that. It was bad for business to admit that you couldn’t do something outright. She smiled at him, hiding her doubts from his view, and motioned towards the backroom. He looked at her, staying where he was a moment before entering. She followed behind him and shut the door.

 

“How can I help you?”

 

“I have been..having trouble contacting Nick through the bond,” he admitted, though going by his tone it had been hard for him to do so. As he explained, Rosalee prepared some tea. She made enough for the both of them in case he wanted any, though since he didn’t seem like a tea person she doubted that he would. Still, she hadn’t been raised to be rude. Looking over her shoulder to gauge whether or not he wanted any, she then proceeded to poor some hot water into both cups.

 

“Are you worried that something’s wrong?” she asked as she handed him the cup and sat down opposite the worktable from him.

 

“That what I was hoping you could tell me,” he answered. From his tone you would have thought that he was smirking again but no such smile appeared on his face. He was serious about his hopes, and his fears.

 

“Well, I’m not an expert, but, perhaps Nick is simply unconscious?” Rosalee hated that she was guessing but, really, his guess was as good as hers. “The only other explanation that I can think of would be head trauma, though since the bond that you two share is more closely connected with the soul than the brain, I’m not confident in that one.”

 

“Is there a way for you to, discreetly, look into it?” A pause. “Nick being unconscious had been my first thought as well, but I want to make sure that there are no other possibilities.”

 

“I can try,” Rosalee said, not wanting to make any promises that she couldn’t keep. “I don’t really know anyone who has experience with this kind of thing, but I may have a book that around here somewhere that can help me.” She paused a moment and then added, "Is it alright if Monroe helps me?"

 

The Guardian paused a second and then nodded, "That would be fine. But I would appreciate it if no one else heard about this."

 

"Of course," she easily granted. She understood that he didn't want anything about the bond that he shared with Nick getting around to the wesen community, let alone a potential weakness to exploit. Besides, who was she going to tell? She doubted that anyone within the community besides herself, Monroe, and Bud knew about the mate-bond. Well, she supposed that Nick's doctor, Marcie, now knew, but since she was Nick's doctor, she wasn't worried about her.

 

The Guardian left without another word to and Rosalee let him. Beyond Nick, she really didn't have anything to say to the regnant. Once the door was shut, Rosalee went out to the main room and closed the shop. Given the Guardian's temperament, he wouldn't appreciate a delay so she didn't cause one. Figuring that Monroe would appreciate something useful to do, she picked up her phone and called him. Like her, he didn't know anything about why the regnant couldn't connect, but he readily agreed to help her conduct research.

 

With that done, Rosalee headed down to the basement to gather her books and then took them up to the worktable. On her third trip she found Monroe waiting for her in the backroom. He stood at the table, leafing through one of the books. Rosalee had to stifle the urge to growl in delight upon seeing him. Her boy's desires and urges could wait, the Guardian would not.

 

"Hey," she greeted, placing her current bundle onto the table, on top another set of books; shed run out of space _long_ ago.

 

Startling a little, he spun to face her. A smile broadened his face just before he said, "Hey. Sorry, you weren't here and I figured I'd get started."

 

"Monroe, it's okay. I invited you here, remember." She chuckled a little, pleased that he was so hesitant to intrude into her personal space. It meant that he was fairly unassuming, which was a good quality to have when you were interested in the person as a partner in life. The only time she'd ever seen him stick to his guns, and it usually included Nick, most of it when the wesen community tried to go hunting for the grimm's head. When it came to her, however, he willingly yielded.

 

"Oh, right." He smiled nervously then he seemed to come back to himself. "Here, let me help you with those." He moved some of the books from the table to one of the chairs, thus making space for the others to sit. Once that was done, he clapped his hands together and asked, "Well, where should we start?"

 

"Well, I brought up all the books that I thought might have a hint of the bond in them. So, there's no replies or spells or anything like that to watch out for. We should probably just start with one and work our way through them."

 

"Okay!" Monroe's voice was too cherry but Rosalee let that slide.

 

As she opened her first book of many, she wondered how cheery Monroe would be by the time they were done.

 

oOo

 

The mist clung to the mountain hillsides, shielding the rivers and valleys from view. When passing through a natural event such as this in one's vehicle, one never paused to think of what it was like to be out in it.     Now that he was experiencing it as he walked through the uneven terrain, Sergio smiled. Even if Sean was searching for them, he wouldn't find them. Between the morning mists and the near-inaccessibility of their location, he knew they were safe. At first Sergio hadn't been sure, but when Monsieur Renard had pointed these things out to him, as well as explaining why it was that Sean could not risk coming after his grimm, Sergio's unease about the plan had lowered considerably. It hadn't been completely wiped out, however, which left the rogue grimm patrolling the boundaries of their camp every morning and assigning another one to someone below him in status (but just as good) each night.

 

When Pierre Renard had explained his plan, Sergio had been furious. The toying with each of the prey was _his_ job, not the regnant's. There was the end-result of what Pierre had planed to put Nicholas Burkhardt through that also bothered him. If Pierre had his way, it would create another grimm within the royal's employ; not only that, but he would turn out almost _exactly_ like Sergio. Competition wasn’t a problem for Sergio, he could handle that. The real trouble came with the amount of time it would take to do that. If it was to be done properly, they would have to consistently push Nicholas to his limits, thus testing them, for months.

 

Looking in the direction that he knew Portland to be, Sergio wondered if they had the luxury of time.

 

oOo

 

When he had woken up for the second time, Nick once again wasn't sure how long he had been out. If he had to guess simply by how he felt, he would have said a few days, but since he doubted that Pierre planned to leave him be that long, he tried again. After coming up blank, Nick gave up. It was no use; everything was sending out mixed signs and his concussed brain simply refused to try and interpret all the signals it was receiving.

 

A soft rumble at his back had Nick stiffening, his heart beginning to race. Until then he hadn’t even noticed that there was some…thing behind him. Now that he was aware of it, he began to wonder how he could _not_ notice. Coarse fur rubbed against him, irritating the back of his neck. He could somewhat feel it through his clothes but only just; human skin was far more sensitive than anything man made could ever be. The rumble, Nick soon found, was actually a deep purr. He shifted to see what was behind him but stopped when the stab wound in his side grumbled at him.

 

As though sensing that its bed mate was awake, the creature moved away from Nick and came to sit, rather patiently, in front of him. With a grimace, Nick pushed himself to a sitting position where he proceeded to study the cat. It took him a full minute to realize that he _knew_ this cat.

 

“Marcie?” he asked, shocked that she was there. The cat didn’t speak so much as nod her head. Her tail flicked, giving the imitation of a person who’s annoyed, then she looked towards the door and let out a low growl. “They took you?” he asked, guessing and hoping that he was correct. Again, the cat nodded. “Why haven’t you woged?”

 

It would certainly be much easier to converse if the other person was in human form rather than wesen. Marcie looked at him, her expression almost screaming, ‘Idiot!’. She yawned then went back to his back and laid down. It was then that Nick noticed how cold he had gotten without her body heat to help keep him warm. She was acting as a blanket for him, allowing him to use her warmth because his body would ill supply it in the cold of the mountain.

 

Nick wanted to ask her more but figured that it would be best to wait. She didn’t seem particularly inclined to talk with him right now and he didn’t really want to lose the heat she provided in her wesen form. He soon fell back to sleep, something that he only realized when someone else chose to wake him up rather rudely. A kick to the side - that was his wakeup call. Pain seared through his injured side and Nick, completely unprepared, cried out from the pain and surprise.

 

“Time to get up, Grimm,” the German guy said with as much disdain in his voice as before. “The Trial starts today.”

 

With that, the man dropped a new set of clothes, what could theoretically be considered breakfast, and a lamp on the ground then walked out. The cell door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the tunnels and rooms that surrounded Nick’s prison. The clank of the iron lock being forced across the door wasn’t much better but at least it didn’t feel like they would announce their presence to any and everyone when it happened.

 

As though that was her cue, Marcie woged, going from a great black panther to a human. It appeared that she’d been grabbed out of bed. She wore pajamas, which looked none too warm in the dark, dank earth, and slippers on her feet. Her hair, which was done in a long braid that hung over her left shoulder, seemed to stick out everywhere, giving her an almost crazy appearance. She’d managed to grab a coat when they’d taken her but besides that, she wasn’t any more prepared for the cold and the elements than he was.

 

Without a word to him, she went over to the supplies that had been left and began to sort through them. “Here,” she said, her voice gentle though her movements were no-nonsense. In her hand she held the clothes that had been brought. As they didn’t look any warmer than his own, Nick didn’t take them.

 

Nick grimaced as he stood, hunching slightly to favor his injured side. “Why?” he asked, still not taking the clothes. “What do they have planned for me?” When she didn’t answer, he changed the question. “What is ‘The Trial’?”

 

Marcie lowered her arm, clothes still in hand. Her honey brown eyes stared at him. They revealed nothing of what she was thinking. "The Trial is a name for a trial by combat."

 

"Trial by combat," Nick repeated dully. Of course it would be, because nothing was ever simple in the wesen world. "And the clothes will help me how?"

 

She looked down at them and then shrugged, "They probably won't, honestly, but another layer couldn't hurt to guard against the cold of the night." When he continued to remain sitting where he was, Marcie rolled her eyes and threw the clothes at him. Nick caught them with his face and then let them fall to his lap, all while not moving.

 

They weren't the best quality, but then Nick wouldn't expect them to be. No matter who it was, no one would hand a prisoner good things. But they weren't dirt-poor quality either. They were thin, probably sold at a store that wanted the fibers to be natural, and earth-toned, both shirt and pants a sort of beige colored. Nick seriously doubted that they would help at all with the chill that he could feel seeping into his bones. In fact, he was fairly certain that the whole point of them was to make him appear weaker while also showing any blood stains for targets in the process.

 

“I think I’ll stick with my own,” Nick said, thinking that the loaners seemed more suited for a much warmer climate the the mountains of Oregon in winter. At least he knew his were warm; the same could not be said for the ones in his hand. “How did you end up here? With them?”

 

Marcie paused, her hands stilling for just a moment before continuing. “Sergio knew I was there, at your house. He was waiting for me when I returned home.”

 

Since Nick didn’t know what to say to that, he didn’t say anything. He felt bad that he hadn’t noticed that she’d been taken. Hell, he felt bad that she’d been taken because of her association with him. But, sadly, he had also been a little preoccupied being passed out at the time; chances were good that he wouldn’t have noticed an incursion if it had come trampling through his house, let alone his doctor being taken after she’d left it.

 

Nestled among the clothes was all that they could expect to eat for breakfast - two granola bars and two bottles of water. Nick supposed that he should be grateful that they had provided something but somehow all he felt was disappointment. Why he was disappointed, he couldn’t answer, but he was. Light grew in the room, bathing it in the warm glow that one usually gets when using fire rather than a flashlight. Nick took a moment to look around, wanting to know what all, or who all, was in there with him. Not surprisingly, there wasn’t much - the “bed” made out of straw, the lamp, the clothes, themselves, the food, and…a small box.

 

With a grimace, Nick walked over to it, trying to favor his side as best he could. He knelt before it and opened it, settling back on his heels once he had. Medical supplies of a sort lay inside. It was more what he suspected Rosalee might use if she were forced to tend to injuries, really, complete with layers of clean, white cloths, several small jars of God only knows what, crude thread and needles, the latter of which seemed to be made out of bone, and a bottle of alcohol and a lighter. Nick shivered at the thought of much of it being used on him and hoped that that wasn’t what it was meant for.

 

“What’s that?” Marcie asked from over his shoulder. The crinkle of the granola bar echoed throughout the room and Nick was just about to turn his head to see if she was eating one of them or if she was getting ready to throw one at him when his head suddenly split with pain.

 

The bond that he and Sean had shared burst through every defense Nick had ever tried to create, shattering it with enough force that it made Nick cry out in pain. He hadn’t been trying to block it, but something must have for it to arrive so ferociously.

 

“Nick!” he heard Marcie call out before he felt her hands on his biceps as she tried to support him.

 

Fury burned through his head, quickly followed by worry and anxiety. Sean’s emotions weren’t normally so fierce, leaving Nick to think that the regnant within his boss was also fueling them, feeling them. There was a sense of searching underneath it all, as though Sean were trying to find him, either physically or mentally.

 

“Nick, what’s wrong?” Marcie asked, not moving a muscle.

 

Nick held up a hand to forestall any further questioning. He needed all his focus to calm the hurricane which tore through his brain. Bit by bit, the winds died, the emotions slowly receding to a tolerable level, allowing him to reach through the bond, to feel it, and to allow ripples of assurance to flow through it. He hadn’t known it until that moment, but it was the lack of the bond that had had him feeling disappointed. Somehow, Nick had subconsciously gotten used to the constant vibration of emotions coming from Sean; so when it had no longer been there, a part of him had noticed it and missed it.

 

An answer to his response followed swiftly. Relief was the first thing he felt; both his own and Sean’s. It felt like a cool, calm river that started to flow around him; it wrapped him and cradled him. Pushing through it came worry, this time far lest prevalent than it had been. It mixed in with the relief so that Nick couldn’t tell if he should feel comforted or anxious. Now that he wasn’t fighting a psychological onslaught, Nick focused more on the bond, on Sean’s portion of it, and delved beneath the surface of it. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was doing it, but eventually he was able to discern something akin to words through it - almost as though they were using their bond to converse.

 

_Nick. Are you alright? Where are you?_

Nick smiled. I’m fine, he answered back, wondering if Sean would be able to understand him. I think they took us to the mountains, but I couldn’t tell you which range.

 

There was a pause in which Nick hoped that Sean would not only be able to understand and reply to what he was saying but also wouldn’t take too long in answering. Sending emotions via the bond was a relatively simple process. For Nick, all he had to do was find the bond and then let what he felt loose. At first he had found it hard not to let everything through but now, this time at any rate, it seemed a lot easier. This new form of communication, however, was something that took a lot more. Nick had no doubt that it would eventually become second nature to him, the way feelings through the bond were, but for now, he had to truly concentrate. _This_ conversation was the only one he was aware of, even though there was another person in the room with him and she was talking to him as well.

 

_Us?_ was the only reply he received. This time Nick looked up at Marcie, using the way he sent emotions to send a picture of her as he saw her now. She opened her mouth to say something but then stopped and cocked her head to the side like she was confused about something. _Who else is with you?_

Your brother, Pierre, and Sergio. There are doubtless others but I’ve only seen one other person and I don’t know his name.

 

Nick sent another flash of a picture and this time a growl, that of the regnant, came back to him. _Gustaf._ It wasn’t anything more than a name but the emotion that came alongside it told Nick that Sean had run into before and that the regnant wanted to tear him apart, piece by piece. Since neither really helped Nick all that much he changed the conversation. Is everyone alright?

 

This time the reply came much quicker. _We are fine Nick; we are not the ones that have been captured and are injured._ There was a pause in which Nick felt Sean’s frustration grow. _We are trying to find you but there is a lot of ground to cover and very little to go on. If you could manage to gather more information while you are there, it would help._ Which meant that no rescue was going to be coming soon. Great. _What is it that my brother wants from you?_

But Nick didn’t get a chance to answer. A sharp sting to the side of his face had him focusing on Marcie, her half-woged eyes more yellow than brown, and a lot more catlike than human. He was about to ask her why she had done that but then he heard why. Someone was unlocking the door. Nick attempted to wipe any traces of the contact from his mind and face, hoping that a really intuitive person, or maybe even a wesen who could read minds if there were any that could do that, wouldn’t know what he had been doing.

 

With Marcie’s hand still on his bicep, he stood, wanting to meet whomever came through the door on even ground. Dirty and injured though he may be, Nick was still a cop, still a grimm, and he wasn’t about to start acting like weak prey.

 

When Pierre Renard entered, Nick relaxed ever so slightly. At six foot-whatever with a solid build, he didn’t look too much different than Sean. His blue eyes held a coldness in them that Nick had seen in Sean’s green ones a few times, though it hadn’t ever been aimed at him. He even recognized Sean’s relaxed stance in the man who now stood in front of him. And yet, even so, there was also the sense of a predator lying just beneath the human mask. Slowly, Nick’s trepidation began to rise. He hid it behind a small smile, refusing to show his fear.

 

“I trust you slept well,” Pierre said with a smile that held as much warmth in it as a windy autumn morning. Blue eyes trailed around the inside of the room, lingering rather dangerously long on Marcie’s hand which still lay on Nick’s arm. “I see that you enjoyed your company,” he said, managing to sound offhanded and snide at the same time. He honed on Nick with something close to eagerness in his eyes. “What would poor Ms. Silverton have to say?” There was a pause and then, “Or my dear brother, for that matter.”

 

Anger surged through Nick but he refused to act on it. That was precisely what the regnant wanted. It wanted an excuse to smack Nick down a peg or two; it wanted a reason to begin with violence. Clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw ached, Nick stood where he was.

 

With what appeared to be pride, the regnant nodded satisfactorily. “Good,” he pronounced. “You have the fortitude to withstand little things. That will bode well for you. Sadly, it will not help you today. For today, you meet your first challenger.” His eyes traveled over Nick for a moment and then he said, “I do hope that you’re able to them.”

 

With that, he left. But they were not left alone. Kurt entered with an almost gleeful smile on his face. "Time to go," he said, his accent barely audible.

 

Nick felt a rumbling vibrate though his right arm. His eyes tracked to the walls, wondering if the room was shaking but when he saw and felt nothing, he looked back towards the German. It took him a full minute to realize that it was coming from Marcie. Was she growling? Purring? He hadn't a clue and he wasn't about to ask her when they weren't alone. Without a word of acknowledgement to the fear he could feel coming from his doctor and himself, Nick started to follow Kurt.

 

oOo

 

Without the possible concussion Nick was better able to try and observe his surroundings. ‘Try’ being the operative word. From what he could tell, everything was made of stone; from the walls to the ceilings to the ground, all of it was stone. Which meant that either someone really likes stone or, more probably, they were in a cave or series of tunnels which had been built into a mountain. Nick knew that it would be better to be able to identify which mountain range it was but he also knew that it wasn't going to happen. Even if Pierre allowed him a chance to try and see where he was, Nick didn't know the various mountains around Portland to be able to tell one from the other.

 

As they continued the air seemed to get colder. He tried not to audibly shiver as his skin prickled as he didn’t doubt that the bastards who currently surrounded him would enjoy that; any sign of weakness coming from a grimm was preferable. Then suddenly, it was very warm; or, at least, it was much warmer than it had previously been. They now stood in front of the kind of door one would expect to find when experiencing medieval England. It was solid wood (though what kind, Nick couldn’t tell) with iron brackets on the outside to support it and reinforce it. The handle was an iron ring with what looked in the dim light to be a dragon’s head mounted above it; the ring was dangling from its bottom teeth while the rest of the mouth appeared to be open in a ferocious snarl. Given what he knew of Sean, Nick gathered that this was a throwback to the type of wesen the Renards were and he was hard-put not to comment on it. Soaking in the warmth, Nick patiently waited to be allowed entry.

 

Kurt slammed the knocker down three times in quick succession, a sound that seemed to begin and end at the door. More heat soaked into his back and Nick peered over his shoulder to find that several more guards had joined them. Judging by their inhumanly lit eyes, they were all wesen. What kind they were differed from person to person and some of them Nick didn’t even know of yet. There was the expected hundjäger and hexenbiest but there was also a couple löwen as well. Since Nick knew that he wouldn’t be able to take all of them in fight, he turned back around and feigned indifference to their presence.

 

With a creak of little used metal that lasted a mere second, the door opened. Nick scrunched his eyes from the sudden influx of light, allowing them to adjust to the change before he reopened them enough to see clearly again. A bear of a man stood in the doorway. No, really, he was literally a bear - a jägerbar to be technical. At first look, he reminded Nick of Frank Rabe and Nick felt a pang as he remembered what had happened to the family. He hadn’t been close with them by any means but he hadn’t born them any hard feelings either. The jägerbar’s expression was impassive as he looked at them all, including Nick, but he also didn’t seem particularly inclined to move either. After a second longer of staring, he stepped back and Nick was forced through the doorway. They were rougher than need be, of course, but Nick refused to let his irritation at their treatment show.

 

This time the hall was considerably shorter and when it ended it opened into a very large, very open, and a somewhat cavernous space. A fire pit was settled deep into the stone floor in the middle, providing the warmth that Nick so gladly partook in. It was ringed with a low stone wall but that was the only boundary that was to be given; otherwise, it was open, allowing the flame to lick towards any who got close enough. Just outside of that lay another area, sparse and ringed off by a series of nets. With a shot of adrenaline fueled by fear and shock, Nick realized that it was a fighting ring. Attempting to swallow the former, he continued to look at it all. Set back at a safe distance so that nothing untoward would reach the spectators, was a series of chairs. No, scratch that, thrones was a better term for they were probably little else. The cushioning was plush and velvet-looking and the backs were high with small tables next to each for what Nick supposed would be refreshments. Each row was set below the one in front, lending a stadium seating to the layout. As the rows got higher, the seats got fancier, telling him that those who paid more got them and therefore received more benefits. For all that it looked like, Nick knew that it was essentially an upgraded version of a Roman arena - and that _he_ was the main event.

 

**TBC**


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I realize that this one is SUPER short but I wanted one chapter from Nick’s POV alone and this is what came out. I’m going to say that this chapter should be rated somewhere near R, or M, for mentions of torture-like abuse. It’s very light and short but it is in there. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> M

**oOo**

Shortly after he and his guards had entered, Nick had been led down a slick path to the floor of the cavern. Even from a distance he had been able to feel the heat which radiated from the fire pit. He soaked it in as he passed and then grew suddenly cold again when he was led further and further away to a small room. For the most part the room was sparse. There was a built-in stone bench across from the door but that and the blood stains on the floor appeared to be all that decorated it. He was pushed in and had to use his arms to stop his nose from breaking upon contact with the bench. By the time he had recovered and turned around, he had been left alone and nothing but the jail cell-like door for company.

 

Nick wasn’t left long by himself. What had felt like three hours later, the jägerbar came to get him. Still in woge form, his red eyes stared at Nick with what he could only describe as hate. “Put these on,” he said, his voice a bass rumble. For the second time since he’d woken up, Nick caught a set of clothes with his face. It was with dismay that he recognized them as the same set that he’d been given earlier.

 

“Thanks,” he said, “but I’ll keep mine.” He placed them down on the stone bench which had been carved out of the wall to allow a place to sit and then crossed his arms, defiantly refusing.

 

The growl the jägerbar gave him had him feeling a little uneasy about his refusal, though he hid it underneath a mask of calm as he stared back. With another growl the bear-like wesen marched into the cell and hauled Nick to his feet. With more force than was necessary he shoved the clothing back at Nick, almost giving him a softened punch to the stomach as he did so. “No other clothing is allowed in The Trial,” the jägerbar said. “You wear those or you wear nothing.”

 

_Well, when you put it that way,_ Nick thought, giving his opponent a smirk of anger before complying. He shivered when the cold of the room brushed against his skin but he refused to acknowledge it and kept disrobing, quickly putting the other set on in the futile hopes that they would help keep him warm. When he was finished the jägerbar looked him up and down before saying, "No shoes or socks; bare feet only." Nick glowered at him but did as he was told. Once that was done, his escort turned his back on Nick and said, “This way,” before beginning to lead him back to the arena.

 

This time, when he entered, it wasn’t empty. Several dozen people now occupied the higher chairs. Their chatter was almost overwhelming in the echoing space and Nick found himself stopping to stare at the sight of it. “Keep going,” his guard instructed in a growl and Nick complied. The closer he got to the ring, the warmer he grew. As it was centered around the fire pit, there were portions of it that he tried to avoid, wincing when he didn’t quite manage it; the heat was intense to the point of pain when he passed the pit to face his captor. As Nick neared the edge of the ring, the jägerbar tried to force Nick to his knees in front of the small crowd but the grimm refused and stood his ground against the immense pressure, glaring at the regnant in the center all the while.

 

“Ah,” Pierre Renard said once things had quieted enough for him to do so. “Ze grimm.” The reaction to those words was immediate. With the exception of the select few who had already known who Nick was, everyone woged, each glaring at him with hate in their faces. Nick kept his eyes on his captor, refusing to give them all the satisfaction of knowing how scared he was. “Mr. Burkhardt, I suppose that you would like to know why you are here.”

 

Nick blinked for a moment, surprised by the change of accent. The regnant had gone from a very heavy French to a sophisticated English. What the..? “It seems only polite since you’ve taken me against my will and brought me here,” he countered, hoping that he kept his tone light to hide his confusion and anger. He gave a smile to help the ruse limp along just in case.

 

There was no response from the crowd. They simply kept staring at him, looking like they were vying for who got to kill him first. Pierre smiled chillingly. "Yes," he said sounding bored. His grin turned wolfish. "My apologies for that, Mr. Burkhardt, but we did not think that you would come with us willingly so...extra measures had to be taken."

 

"Extra measures," Nick repeated dully. His eyes cooled into ice as his anger burned into something close to rage. Several of the wesen shifted uneasily and gave their leader wary glances. Idly, Nick recognized that they had noticed a shift in him but he was too focused on the ringleader to truly care about that. "Is that what you call the murder of several innocent people? 'Extra measures'?"

 

Pierre smiled condescendingly at him, making it seem like Nick was the foolish child who simply didn't understand the way the world worked. "My dear grimm, that is how business is done." Nick's mood darkened as he swallowed the rage and bile that had crept into his throat. he literally bit his tongue so that he didn't say anything that might show how he truly felt. When Pierre's smile widened, he knew that the regnant was aware of the effect he was having on Nick and that he was enjoying it immensely. "Now that that is over, we are free to get to the business at hand. You are here, Mr. Burkhardt, because you have been stirring things up and not in a good way. You are making the grimms look bad and that is something that we simply cannot have."

 

"Because I'm not killing them right off the bat you mean," Nick guessed, smirking almost bitterly. "Well I'm sorry but that's not the kind of grimm I am."

 

This time when Pierre smiled back at him, it was almost out of pity. "I know," he said, "and that is why we," he spread his arms to include those around him, "are here. To help you understand your true nature."

 

"My true nature is what I make it," Nick argued, not liking where this was going. "Not you."

 

"And that is where you are wrong, my dear grimm. Your true nature has been woven into your DNA through hundreds of years. It is not something that you can change simply because you choose to. It _is_ you."

 

"Yeah, well, I guess we'll just have to see about that. Won't we?"

 

"Yes, Grimm," he practically spat the name, making it sound like the curse that most wesen thought that it was, "we will."

 

A growl behind him was the only warning Nick got before he felt several hundred pounds of bear on his back, bearing him down to the cold, stone floor with ease. He cried out in surprise before his chest constricted enough to stop him from drawing in a full breath. Gritting his teeth, Nick tried to lift both of them of the floor but he stopped when he recognized it as futile. When he wriggled and squirmed so that he could turn around and face his attacker the jägerbar's teeth scraped at his skin, starting at the back of his neck as the bear-like wesen's mouth closed over it and ending near the front where a loose hold was established. Nick could feel the burn of a cut, letting him know that blood had been drawn. Yet now that he was facing his attacker, he couldn't detect any real malicious intent. The eyes, while red, weren't narrowed in anger and neither was the muzzle. There was just enough strength to hold him still, to keep him down, and nothing more. Was this a test? Nick let that idea bounce around in his head for a bit and then decided that it didn't matter. He had never let people bully him in his life and he wasn't about to start now.

 

Curling up his legs, Nick used them to kick at the jägerbar, earning a surprised grunt from the wesen before he bit down a little bit harder. Nick felt a sting as the teeth bit through the first layer of skin on his neck; he winced but otherwise didn’t show any reaction to it. Switching tactics, he went for the unguarded eyes instead, poking them and making that jägerbar rear back in annoyance and pain. Nick scrambled out of the way as soon as he was able. He needed to put as much distance between him and the his opponent.

 

His guard woged back to human form but didn’t attack. He stood at ease, hands behind his back, and stared over Nick’s shoulder. “Very good,” Pierre Renard chimed behind Nick. “You do well enough when caught unawares. But I wonder…how would you do in a fight for your life?”

 

This time what looked to Nick like an army of robed klaustreich surrounded the ring. They formed a unified circle, effectively blocking Nick and the jägerbar in. When they each woged then began snarling at Nick, he prepared himself for a fight that he doubted he could win and making a mistake that he knew he would later regret. Without Nick watching him like a hawk, the true threat in the room charged him.

 

Nick’s head slammed into the stone floor with a resounding crack. Blackness seemed to surround him, robbing him of his vision while pain stole his breath. He would have cried out but he didn’t have the air or time to do so. With him on the ground, the jägerbar attacked full-on. Nick’s vision cleared just enough for him to notice the oncoming attack, allowing him to roll out of the way and avoid being wedged between unforgiving stone and a body made up of pure muscle. His balance was a little wobbly as got to his feet but he stood his ground, staring his opponent down.

 

He had just gotten into a fighting stance when the jägerbar came again. This time Nick managed to dance out of the way but only just. He tried to right his balance for the next attack and he’d almost gotten in when the bear came at him again. This time he more skittered out of the way, grimacing as he felt heat on his back. With all of his attention spent trying not to get killed, Nick hadn’t noticed just how close to the fire pit he’d gotten. Pain seared through a line on his right bicep. It was an effective reminder to move away and Nick tried to do just that while he and the wesen circled each other. Every once in a while, the other man would swipe at him with a limb that was more like a paw than a hand and each time Nick would jump out of the way, wincing whenever he got too close to the fire pit.

 

Hissing behind his left shoulder told him that he’d gotten to close to the klaustreich that boxed him in but as he hadn’t much other choice, Nick chose to ignore them. Until one jumped on his back and tried to bite into his neck. With something bordering on pure reflex, Nick flung the cat-like wesen off him, earning a could set of deep gouge marks from the wesen’s claws, and then skittered away once more when the jägerbar charged him again.

 

“Careful, Grimm,” the jägerbar growled out. “You get to close and the cats just might try to have you for dinner.”

 

“Thanks for the tip,” Nick panted as he danced the graceful ballet of cat-and-mouse. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me any others?” The jägerbar smiled at him, prowling in between Nick and the klaustreich. “How about your name at least?”

 

“Other than your death?” the other man teased. He smiled again, evidently finding his own joke funny. “I am called Zachariah.”

 

“Nice to meet you Zach.”

 

Nick lunged into the air as Zach went low. He cleared the jägerbar easily but his ankle rolled when he landed, making him cry out in pain as he dropped to the floor with a painful thud. Across from him, Zachariah smiled gleefully and pounced. Nick did the only thing he could think of doing, he used the jägerbar’s momentum and very painfully forced the other man to roll over him, the move finishing with Nick pinning him to the floor with a good portion of his weight pressed against the man’s throat.

 

Zachariah released his woge, changing back to human form with ease. He remained perfectly still, realizing that all Nick had to do was add a little bit more pressure and he would be struggling to breathe. It was then that Nick noticed how small of a man the jägerbar truly was. In wesen form, he was tall and broad-shouldered with salt-and-pepper fur. In human form, his was thinner than Nick, but taller. His face was already beginning to get red from Nick’s hands around his throat when Nick eased up enough to let him breathe, though not enough to encourage him to fight back.

 

“What are you waiting for, Grimm?!” someone yelled from the crowd. The voice was more of a growl than an actual voice but it let enough hatred and excitement come through that Nick could hear it as though the person were in human form. “Do what your kind does best!”

 

The sound of metal sliding against stone reached Nick’s ears and out of the corner of his eye he saw a very large ax come into view. Nick wasn’t sure if he paled or not but he thought that he should have with how sick he felt at that moment. They wanted him to cut the jägerbar’s head off! Swallowing convulsively, Nick released his hold on Zachariah, stood up, and limpingly stepped away from the man. He looked at the eager crowd, at all of their gleaming eyes and evident joy at the prospect and felt disgust rip through his stomach anew.

 

“I will not kill this man!” he yelled into the crowd. Normally Nick was not one to raise his voice but he wanted to make sure that he was heard. “And I will not participate in your sick games.” He looked over at Zachariah and felt himself become surprised when he saw something very close to respect come into the other man’s face. “Kill me if you must, but I will not fight you anymore.”

 

Zachariah nodded to him, somehow conveying that he understood and would not attack Nick any further - something for which Nick was extremely grateful as he doubted that he could gain the advantage again. When they both looked up at Pierre, the regnant almost looked disappointed. It was with a granite-edged voice, however, that he commanded, “Hold him down!”

 

As one, the klaustreich surrounded Nick. One forced Nick’s knees out from under him, making him slam painfully onto the ground. The same one pushed him even further onto the ground as two of his buddies grabbed each of Nick’s arms and pulled. Between the three of them they were able to make it so that Nick was flush with the stone floor. The two on his arms kept holding on while the one at his back grabbed hold of his legs by the ankles. Nick cringed when the klaustreich seemed to press extra hard on his injured ankle but he stilled any sound of pain.

 

Cloth ripping apart rent through the air, effectively bringing Nick back to what was going on. “You know, Mr. Burkhardt, this could have been avoided,” Pierre said as his voice seemed to get closer and closer. With effort Nick looked and noticed that the regnant was slowly making his way towards Nick with what looked like an iron poker in his hand. Although Nick couldn’t see it, he knew when it had been placed in the fire; the iron hissed and spat angrily when it touched the hot surface of the rock pit. “When you are being nursed tonight by your fried, Doctor Kisic, please remember that.”

 

“Why, because I wouldn’t kill him?” Nick challenged. Now he had an inkling of what was going to happen, he began to fight against the hands that held him. The klaustreich hissed at him, their hands holding tighter. Nick felt little pinpricks in both of his wrists and ankles as their claws pierced his skin and it was that more than anything that forced him to stop. The last thing that he needed was to have one of them accidentally nick a vein or something ridiculous like that.

 

Out of his peripheral, Nick saw Pierre nod. “Yes,” he said making it sound more simple than it truly was.

 

Nick kept swiveling his head this way and that, looking for Zachariah. He found him standing off to the side, watching with what Nick thought was a carefully blank look on his face. A small part of Nick was angry that the man could just stand there while this was happening but the more reasonable part said that it was stupid to expect him to do anything else. He was within Renard’s employ; that meant that he couldn’t rise against him without risking his own life in the process. And besides, the odds were that even _if_ Nick got free nothing would come of it as he wasn’t in any shape to make a jail break yet.

 

Heavy iron scraping against stone echoed throughout the room, drawing Nick’s attention back to Pierre. With horror, he recognized the symbol at the end of the poker. The Grimm ‘G’. It was glowing white from the amount of heat it held. Nick tried to force himself to look away from it but it never worked. He watched it until it hung right by his face. The heat was intense; it felt like it was burning him by proximity.

 

Without further preamble or attempt to talk, Pierre thrust the ‘G’ into Nick’s left shoulder blade. Nick remained aware of nothing but searing agony for about a minute before blessed darkness enfolded him, taking him before he was able to smell his own skin burning.

 

**TBC**


	41. Chapter 41

It was nearing two days and there _still_ wasn’t a clue as to where to start looking for Nick! Monroe prowled back and forth in his living room, annoyed beyond belief by that fact and wishing it weren’t true. Okay, sure, the Guardian had called a couple of hours ago to say that he’d heard from Nick, but Monroe knew that that was a far cry from having found him so he wasn’t putting too much hope in what Renard had to say. His concern for Nick’s wellbeing grew the more that time passed. As it did, so did his anger which is what led to him pacing in his house while he waited for the Guardian to arrive. 

 

“Monroe, sit down,” Rosalee said with an aggravated sigh. Monroe flicked a glance over at his girlfriend, both envious and angry that she could sit there so calmly. Then again, she hadn’t known Nick for all that long. Though she had grown closer to him, he knew that it wasn’t anywhere near where he and Nick were. 

 

“For real, man,” Hank seconded, looking just as annoyed as Monroe felt, though Eddie suspected that it was all aimed at him. “You’re making me dizzy.” 

 

“Did your captain give _any_ details?” he asked again as he made another lap around his living room.

 

“He will be here soon enough, Monroe,” Rosalee reasoned, not for the first or third time since the phone call. “Until then, you should sit down for a while.” 

 

Monroe was about to argue that point when there was a knock on his front door. He was at the door before either of the other two could even stand up. Since it was his house, he opened it and stood aside, letting the Guardian of Portland in. Monroe quietly growled when the man didn’t even acknowledge his presence and marched right in as though he owned the place. As much as he wanted to start a territorial fight, however, Monroe let it go. That man had news about Nick and Eddie wanted to hear it. 

 

“Nick has made contact,” he began without preamble, leaving Monroe to scramble to close and lock his door and join them. “He has confirmed that he is in a mountain range but he doesn’t know much more than that.” 

 

“Is he alright?” Hank asked for the group. 

 

“As far as I could tell,” the regnant answered. “But Nick was not the only one that was taken. Sergio also kidnapped Nick’s doctor.” He waited and let that sink in before he continued. “I’m not sure what my brother has planned for Nick but if he needs a live-in doctor for it, it’s not good.” 

 

“Which means we need find Nick _fast_ ,” Monroe interjected.

 

“We’re trying,” Hank answered. “But there’s only so much that we can do.” 

 

“Which is why we have to find a way to narrow the field.” The way the regnant stepped in showed that he was operating as a police captain and not as the Guardian. Actually, now that Monroe thought about it, this whole conversation had the feel of a press conference. He didn’t understand how the Guardian could be so cold; he was mated to the grimm, after all, shouldn’t he be feeling more than he is? The Guardian looked over at Hank, “Has anyone had any luck with the reservations or forest service?” 

 

“We’ve gotten some responses back but so far they all have said that they haven’t noticed anything but that they’d keep an eye out.” 

 

“Who hasn’t answered?”

 

“Yakama.” 

 

The regnant nodded. “Then that’s probably where Nick is being held.” When they all gave him a puzzled look the man explained, “My brother would want to make sure that no one would be able to tell us where Nick is. In order to do that, he would either kill them all or get them under his control.” His eyebrows furrowed as though he were in pain; it made him pause but he soon continued. “Now, I’ve heard rumors that there’s a nation where most of its inhabitants are wesen. It would make sense that the one that didn’t answer-” He ended abruptly with a hiss of pain and curled around his stomach as though it was bothering him. His right hand crawled up to his left shoulder and then proceeded to try to get to the back of it. 

 

“Captain?” Hank asked, sounding concerned. “You alright?” 

 

In response, the Guardian hissed in pain again and fell kneeling onto the floor. Rosalee was the first to react, reaching the regnant before either Monroe or Hank could and knelt beside him. “Sean?” she asked as her left hand grabbed his arm and her right went to his back. Monroe balked at her use of his given name but didn’t comment on it. Yet. “What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nick’s in pain,” he answered, his face still scrunched. His right hand continued to try and get to his left shoulder. With enough of an effort, it made and briefly touched the shoulder blade, “Here.” 

 

“It’s got to be pretty bad for you to be feeling it physically,” Rosalee reasoned. She looked to Monroe as though for confirmation of her theory but Eddie could only shrug. What he knew about the bond, she knew. If she was construing something else then Eddie had no clue if it was true or not. Her hand went towards the offending area, trying to see if there was a mark or something evidently wrong with it on the Guardian’s side but she was forced to stop when the regnant stiffened. 

 

As quickly as it had happened, it seemed to stop. The Guardian’s posture instantly changed from that of a man in immense pain to the usual cold and unapproachable man that Monroe believed him to be. Rosalee hesitated for a couple minutes before she stepped back and sidled over to Eddie’s side. When he looked up, the regnant’s eyes were blood-red.

 

 _Oh shit,_ Eddie thought, gulping to keep himself from reacting in any way. The blutbad in him agreed with the rage he could see on the Guardian’s face. He wanted to join in on the hunt and tear that sadistic grimm to pieces. But since the Guardian had a she-regnant (probably his sister) with him, Monroe doubted that he would be needed. Still, they now had a place to start looking, which was more than they had had an hour ago. Monroe, and maybe even Hank, could easily go out to Yakama and try to find a trail. 

 

“My sister and I will leave at nightfall tomorrow. If any of you wish to join, meet us in the Deluxe hotel lobby.” 

 

“How do you know that Nick is there?” Rosalee asked, sounding hesitant and worried. 

 

“If the rumors are true and it’s the Yakama reservation that is almost all wesen, my brother will go there. He loathes humans and thinks that they should be erased from existence. The only reason he hasn’t tried is that grimms come from the humans and there isn’t a way to test for one yet. That along with the fact that Pierre has the will and means to earn silence from those within Yakama suggests that that’s where he’d take Nick. The Portland PD have no jurisdiction there and he knows it, which means that he knows that it will take me longer to find Nick if I go looking on my own.” He looked around the room at them and then said, “Which is why I’m not going in alone.” 

 

“Should we tell Wu?” Hank asked. 

 

The Guardian seemed to think over that for a minute, clearly debating the answer. Then he said, “No, not unless we don’t find anything tomorrow.” 

 

“You think that’s a possibility,” Monroe said with the inflection of a question and a statement in his voice. He didn’t like the idea that it was a probability but he also realized that it could very well happen. 

 

“I think we won’t find Nick in one night,” the Guardian answered.

 

“And what if Nick’s in some other mountain range?” Monroe challenged. He didn’t want to count on Nick being in one place and then find out that he’s somewhere else entirely; he was more than well aware that their chances of finding Nick in one piece became slimmer and slimmer the longer it took them. 

 

“Then we’ll at least know where he’s not.” Throughout the conversation, the red in the regnant’s eyes had slowly begun to fade. Now it was back and it was aimed at Monroe. Knowing a challenge when he sees one, Eddie backed down, throwing up his hands in surrender. The Guardian went back to addressing them as a whole. “Now, hopefully Nick will make contact before we leave and be able to point us in a more specific location but until then this is the plan.” 

 

“We’ll be there,” Rosalee assured, grabbing Monroe’s hand and giving it a squeeze. 

 

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” he agreed almost immediately, though he sounded sarcastic. 

 

The Guardian nodded. “Sundown,” he reiterated before spinning on his heel and leaving. Monroe tried to ignore the way the regnant refused to move his left arm. What had they done to Nick that even _Renard_ could feel it?

 

**oOo**

 

Marcie sat in hers and Nick’s prison, looking over all of the items that had been brought in not five minutes ago. They had brought plenty of bottled water, two cases of it actually, and four wool blankets. Several various jars lay within the blankets, protected from breaking by the woolen layers, and alongside them were bars of plain soap. At first she had been curious about the new items. Now, she felt trepidation rise. Why did she need these things? The blankets made sense, as did some of the water and even the soap, but the rest seemed overkill. 

 

Before she could begin to truly worry, the door to her cell opened and two löwen dragged Nick in. He wore pants and nothing more and she found herself wondering what had happened to his regular clothes. She said nothing as they dropped him to the ground and left. Once she was sure they were gone, she went over to Nick to make sure that he was okay. 

 

“Nick?” she called, feeling for his pulse and checking for the reason why he was unconscious. When she found it, she wished that she hadn’t. She had seen plenty of horrors during her time as a doctor, but this made her physically ill. They had _branded_ him with the Grimm’s ‘G’. The mark was gruesome on his left shoulder blade, red, puffy, and painful looking. Now she knew why she needed so much soap, water, and liniment. In most cases, the ointment would do more harm than good but Marcie wasn’t so sure that it true in this instance. The mix that Bud had given Nick helped speed healing. These jars, her own personal jars, were reproductions of what the eisbiber had given Nick. She’d gotten the ingredients from Bud’s wife and had mixed them accordingly. It followed that smearing some onto the wound would help it heal rather than hurt it. Looking down at the wound, she bit her lip. Did she truly dare to experiment with something such as this? 

 

When she didn’t get a response from him, she debated forcing him awake. Given that she couldn’t see any head wounds which would point to a concussion, she let him be, assuming that he had passed out from being burned. She took the opportunity to care for and dress the wound while he was out; it would lessen the amount of pain she would cause him. She was almost done when Nick groaned awake. 

 

“Oh,” he groaned, face scrunching into an expression of pain. He tried to push himself up but stopped with a short cry, falling the short distance back down to the floor.

 

“You’re going to want to avoid using your left arm for a bit,” she instructed as she carefully helped him to sit up. “Now, sit still and let me finish.” He flinched when she pressed the small gauze pad against the burn but otherwise made no sound of pain. Using tape, she sealed the pad to Nick’s skin. While she worked, her eyes raked his body, looking for injuries. She hadn’t known Nick very long but he didn’t seem the type to worry about minor aches and pains. Bullet wounds and injuries that needed stitches, she knew, he would tell her about but she doubted that he would mention things such as bruised ribs or small sprains or strains. 

 

A myriad of small bruises littered his torso. None of them were in any form of a pattern, leading her to believe that they were the result of minor things rather than a fight. Ignoring those, she moved on to his bare feet. Normally she wouldn’t pay any attention to the fact that he was barefoot but given that they were underground and that he had probably been forced to go without shoes for most of the time that he had been gone (something that she was sure he rarely did unless at home), she worried about scratches which could get infected and things the like. She noticed right away that his right ankle was swollen. Other than that, however, she couldn’t see much beneath the dust and dirt.

 

Marcie jumped when the cell door opened again then cursed herself for it. Not only did she _not_ want to give these assholes the pleasure of seeing her fear but she should have heard the new person coming. She needed to remember to keep her attention divided between circumstances outside the room as well as inside it! When she looked at the grimm, she noticed that he seemed relaxed, almost as though he were only partially aware of what was going on around him. It was only after she looked closer that she could see how tense his muscles were. Marcie tried to shield him but as she had been sitting behind him so that she could work on the brand, it didn’t work so well. When she began to move, Nick’s arm blocked her with as much willingness to yield as a block of stone. 

 

When a jägerbar entered, she felt more than saw Nick relax. Evidently he knew who this newcomer was. Since she didn’t, Marcie was slower to let her guard down and therefore watched him like a hawk. The man didn’t say anything but his actions said more than words ever could. As he carried Nick’s old clothes into the room and placed them on top of the blankets he seemed to give Nick a wide birth. It wasn’t out of fear that he did so, though, it appeared to be respect, deference almost. He stopped, looking around at all they had and taking it in. His eyes then began to roam over Nick and Marcie felt the grimm silently meet the potential challenge. With a nod, the jägerbar said, “I will bring you food.” He didn’t give either of them time to respond before the cell door was closed once more. 

 

It was a long while before either of them spoke. For Marcie, it was more that she didn’t know what to say. Even though she hadn’t been awake long, she felt drained. Her nerves were shot and her brain simply needed time to process that this, quite possibly, was what her life was going to be like for the foreseeable future. She wasn’t sure what was going through Nick’s mind but she suspected that it was something similar to hers. 

 

“You should probably change,” she said, standing up and moving away from him to give him some space as well as privacy. “Come the next hour, you’re going to want the extra warmth.” 

 

He smirked rather coldly. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He sounded resigned to the fact that he would have to get up, like he didn’t actually want to do it. Knowing that he had to be exhausted, she didn’t blame him. Still, she waited until he looked like he was ready and then held out her hand to help him up. He eyed the hand as though it were a trap of some kind for about a minute before he grabbed it. “Yeah, that hurts,” he admitted as he heavily limped towards his clothes and then proceeded to get changed. 

 

Knowing that there was really nothing that needed to be said to that, Marcie didn't reply. Instead, she sat, facing one of the walls, listening to the sound of the wind as it began to howl its way through whatever cracks and crevices it could find. She shivered as the temperature seemed to drop a little bit more and wondered if Nick was beginning to feel it yet. She knew that they were both in for another night of cuddling for warmth but as he had been unconscious when she'd been brought in, she wasn't sure when that should start or how to broach the subject. 

 

The sound of him sliding back down to the ground had her turning in time to see him wince and lean a bit more on his right side. The thin pants now lay in a heap in what could be considered the corner of the cell, discarded as the trash that they were. Nick sat with his back against the rock. His left leg was bent, supporting his left arm, and his right was stretched out in front of him. He looked exhausted and so Marcie didn't attempt to get any conversation out of him, though a part of her was dying to know what had happened. She had heard a lot about what went on during The Trial, but she had never known anyone who had survived it long enough to tell her anything for certain. 

 

"They want me to kill wesen." 

 

His voice made her slightly jump as she hadn't expected him to say anything. She remained quiet, however, and chose to simply watch him. In his tone she heard many things: anger, despair, sadness, loss. But when he opened his eyes, all she saw in the icy blue was Grimm. It was then that she knew that the word 'anger' didn't even cover how he felt on the subject. Rage could be closer to it but she sensed that it was more primal than that. 

 

"Is that why they burned you?" she asked, refusing to say the first thought that had come to her mind. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't done it yet. Most grimms wouldn't hesitate to do so, yet, evidently, this one did. It made him an anomaly, something that she wanted to study. 

 

His smirk was sardonic at best. "They think they're teaching me to be a better grimm." Marcie thought that he was the best of his kind but didn't voice it as it didn't do any good for her to do so. His eyes veered from her to the wall opposite him then they seemed to de-focus. "They're going to continue doing this until I kill a wesen," he said and she watched the realization dawn on him. For a moment she thought that he would give in to it but then she saw his jaw clench and his expression harden. No, this man wasn't going to sacrifice his morals and kill an innocent; he would hold out as long as was humanly possible. 

 

The door to their cell opened again but instead of the jägerbar with their promised food, there were four klaustreich standing on the other side. Their grins held gleeful hostility in them but they made no move to advance. One of them came forward and it was then that Marcie recognized him as Markus. She had been his parents’ doctor for years and as a result had watched him grow. Never in her life would she have thought to find him running with this crowd. When he spoke, his voice was polite but cold and uncaring. “His majesty has given instructions for you to be allowed to use the facilities before we shut you in for the night.”

 

“How generous of him,” Nick sarcastically replied. Marcie silently agreed with him but she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to aggravate her captors any more than they probably already were. 

 

The only response that Markus gave to that was to focus on the grimm, his gaze indifferent at best. He remained like that for a moment before he returned to looking at a spot in between them. “You will both be shackled and then taken together. There will be items available in case you desire to clean up but as you will have fifteen minutes to what needs to be done, I suggest that you choose your needs wisely.”

 

With that he stepped away and let the rest enter. Both Nick and Marcie stood up and allowed themselves to be bound in chains. Marcie stifled a wince as the manacles were clamped on tighter than was necessary, looking over at Nick in time to see him do the same. She wanted to bark at them to be careful with the grimm, to be considerate of the injuries that he had received while participating in their ridiculous test. Knowing that she would be ignored, she bit her tongue and stared ahead, donning the same air of detachment that many of them wore. 

 

With a tug, both she and Nick were marched out of their cell. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a couple of the klaustreich start to gather their meager supplies. When she opened her mouth to tell them to leave it all alone, the chains were pulled harder, as though by doing so it would make her jaw slam shut. She glared at her captors but did as she was commanded and said nothing. With a feeling of dread mixed with curiosity, Marcie followed the men as they began to descend further into the mountain. 

 

**oOo**

 

At first glance, the city of Portland didn’t look like much. It had no New York City skyline to impress those that gazed out at it which left many with the impression that there was no beauty to be had when doing so. Yet as he stood before the windows in his loft, Sean Renard couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the city. It was _his_ city and there was nothing that he wouldn’t do to protect it. 

 

Sean’s hand clenched in fury as he remembered the pain that he had felt coming from Nick’s side of the bond earlier that evening. Whiskey splash over his knuckles when the glass that had been in his hand broke under the pressure. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what Pierre had done to his grimm, he could guess. None of the ideas and images that his mind provided helped to ease his anger; if anything, it only helped it grow until all he saw was red, literally. Through the reflection in the windows he could see his eyes elongate and change color and for once, Sean didn’t even try to reign his more primal side in.

 

With a growl, Sean turned away from the windows, throwing the shards of glass into the trash before he began to clean and bandage the hand. His lips pulled back into a feral snarl as he fought with his desire to go hunt, to try to find Nick on his own tonight. He was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to locate the grimm on his own - he doubted that he would be able to do it with the help of his sister and Nick’s friends, actually - and so going off half-cocked would do neither him nor Nick any good. Even so, the regnant within him snarled and fought against the logic. That part of him didn’t want to accept any of it; all it wanted to do was hunt Pierre down and tear his throat out. 

 

His phone ringing had Sean growling again; he simply was not in the mood to deal with anyone at the moment. After seeing the Deluxe Hotel’s phone number pop up, he attempted to bring himself back under control. It was poorly done but at least he hadn’t answered in a snarl. “Yeah.” 

 

 _“My, somebody is grumpy,”_ Justine said with something of an amused pout in her voice. _“Has something happened with the grimm?”_

 

Not wanting to go into details that he wasn’t even sure he knew, Sean moved the conversation along, “What do you need, Justine?” 

 

 _“I have some news for you,”_ she said, now dropping any pretense of anything but business. _“A friend of mine lives within one of the reservations near Portland. Not a very dear friend, really, but as he has proven useful on occasion, I would like to keep him alive, if you catch my meaning,”_ Sean clenched his teeth and refrained from replying. They both knew what she meant and he wasn’t about to make any promises that he couldn’t keep. _“Well, evidently, word has gotten round through the wesen community here that the local grimm is missing. Apparently, there is quite a sizable group that is searching for him on their own time and in their own ways, did you know? Anyways, Jorge has been keeping an eye out just in case it would be worth his while to do so and he has said that there has been a fair amount of activity on the border of the Yakama reservation.”_

 

That peaked Sean’s interest, though he tried not to show it. “What kind of activity?” he asked, hoping that he had managed to create a balance of boredom and professionalism. 

 

 _“He didn’t know,”_ she answered dismissively. _“All that he would say was that there was a lot of activity happening and that it, if I was willing to provide compensation, he would be happy to look into it.”_

 

“And what did you tell him?” 

 

 _“I think I managed to impress upon him the importance of keeping an eye out but that was all that he should do. I figured that you would want to investigate instead.”_ There was a pause and the sound of clothing rubbing against the speaker in the phone. Then, _“Shall I meet you in fifteen?”_

 

Knowing that she meant at his home and not at Yakama, he nodded. “Yeah. See you then.” He hung up before she could say anything more and put his phone back into his pocket. Blood dripped into the stainless steel sink, reminding him that he needed to tend to it before he left. Most of the damage done hadn’t been too extensive; the glass had broken in a way that had created more than a few dull edges. But there was one where a portion of it had punctured his palm, near the index finger joint. It hadn’t gone in far but it had been enough to create the need for a bandage to two. He had just finished when his sister had shown up. 

 

“Are you ready?” she asked as she strode into his home as though she owned it. As opposed to her usual preference of clothing, she was simply dressed in jeans, what appeared to be Ugg boots, and a white sweater. Her blonde hair was down and her face clear of any makeup. 

 

Sean looked her up and down as he closed the door. “Like you, I just need to change.” 

 

If there was one thing that he didn’t like about his current home it would be that the rooms were small, almost confined in feeling. It meant that both he and Justine would have to go outside to woge. Doing it with another person was always a different experience. You both got to watch the other as your bodies became that of something else. The first time with an unknown person was fascinating, no matter who you were. To do a woge with your sister, however, was simply uncomfortable. Still, they had both been raised to ignore what they didn’t like and do what was expected of them and so they both casually went to the separate quarters and stripped. They both carefully avoided looking at one another as they went out into the snow and slowly changed into their wesen form. 

 

Bronze scorched with a reddish black and shimmering with hints of goldish orange reflected off the snow. Sean was not known for being vain in any sense of the word but even he appreciated the his coloring when in regnant form. He stretched his black wings, shaking himself as though the skin of his human form had been too confining. It felt so good to be free! A part of him longed for Nick to see him like this, to run his hands over the scales that covered Sean’s body but the other, more rational side cautioned him with patience. Pushing Nick into accepting this side of Sean would never work and he knew it. 

 

Next to him, Justine shook as well and spread her wings. She was smaller than him, as was the way with the females, but he knew her to be just as ferocious. Her blue sapphire scales sparkled on the snow as though they were the jewels they represented. No matter how many times he had seen her in this form, Sean always marveled upon looking at her. She was easily the most beautiful of them all, though no one else would admit it. 

 

 _Shall we?_ she asked, inclining her head. 

 

Sean’s expression would only have been described as a grin by those who were familiar with regnants; to anyone else, it would have appeared as though he were snarling at his sister. _Ladies first,_ he answered, sweeping his wing out in a chivalrous gesture. 

 

With a whoosh of air that threatened to knock him off his balance, Justine took off into the night air, disappearing not long after. Knowing that his neighbors would soon become curious and look outside, Sean wasted no time in joining her, soon catching up to and overtaking her in mid-flight. She nipped at his tail as he went past but otherwise did nothing. They were both enjoying themselves and, though their mission was a serious one, they planned on relishing in their pleasure. 

 

A brief spike of pain went through the back of his mind and it made Sean stutter a bit when it did. Since it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as earlier, Sean was able to let it wash over him, refusing to allow it to distract him. Pain steadily pulsed from then on, telling him that whatever Nick was doing, it was hurting him. Sean sent his determination and love back, hoping that Nick understood them for what they were.   
  


 _We’re coming, Nick,_ he said, stifling the roar that he knew would convey that. _We’re coming._

 

**TBC**


	42. Chapter 42

"Where are we going?" Marcie's voice rang out against the stone-lined hallway they were being herded down. Nick thought he could hear hardness in her tone, a challenge of sorts, as well as annoyance but he said nothing about it as the klaustreich that surrounded them hadn't seemed to notice or care. She did glare at them, however, as they remained silent, a growl bubbling in her throat as her frustration mounted. 

 

"Keep walking," the klaustreich in charge answered, pushing her along to add emphasis. Even though Nick hadn't said anything, they also nudged him, making him grit his teeth in pain when they had pressed against the newly created brand. Marcie, who had been looking at him and as a result had seen the pain their captors had caused, didn't bother suppressing her growl this time. It bubbled forth from her chest as her eyes slowly morphed into the yellow of a panther. 

 

Knowing that now was not the time to pick a fight that they wouldn't win, Nick limped forward and began to lead. There was another growl from behind him as he briefly passed her but then she hurried and caught up to him. In spite of the fact that Nick hated that she had been brought into this mess, he also found her presence comforting. He let her body heat soothe and warm him all the while straightening his posture so that he seemed stronger than he felt. 

 

The "facilities" they were to use had been little more than being allowed to go outside to pee and then a quick dunk in the nearby, freezing, stream. Surprisingly, they had been given a bar of soap to use but as they had not been allowed to get clean separately, they had had to share the soap as well as the stream. Precisely fifteen minutes later, their captors had barked at them that it was time to get out and then had tossed some clothes in their faces. Nick had frowned when he recognized the same, thin clothes that he had been given before the fight but he had donned them gladly as he had been cold. As soon as they had been dressed, their klaustreich guards had surrounded them once more and had bound Nick's hands behind his back - Nick's, not Marcie's. Evidently they didn't see Marcie as a threat which, looking down at her, was probably a big mistake on their part as she seemed ready to try and tear them all apart. 

 

Pain throbbed through his ankle, breaking up his memories and reminding him to remain in the present as much as possible. Nick wasn't sure how long they had been walking but he knew that, had they been returning to their cell they would have made it long before now, which left him wondering where precisely they were being taken. Unlike Marcie, however, he didn't bother to ask; if Pierre had wanted them to know, they would have been told. So, he bit his tongue, clenched his teeth to keep any sign of pain from coming onto his face, and kept walking forward. 

 

Aside from the sounds of their feet making their slow way towards wherever it was they were going, silence now covered the group. The klaustreich were careful of talking in case their prisoners should hear something that they shouldn't and Nick didn't really want to give them anything that they could take back to their boss. Whether Marcie thought the same thing or whether she was simply stewing in her anger, Nick didn't know; either way, the result was the same - she said nothing more as they walked. 

 

When the air slowly began to get marginally warmer, Nick decided that they had been walking out of the mountain. Given that it was taking so long, he doubted that it wasn't the same way that he had come in yet how many entrances could there be? When Pierre met them at the doorway, looking quite satisfied at seeing them, Nick had to work hard not to groan or say something that might piss the man off. 

 

"Ah, my dear Grimm," Sean's brother greeted them. A broad, pleased, smile spread across his face as he opened his arms as though to embrace them. "I'm so glad to see you recovered from your experience earlier. No doubt I have your doctor-friend to thank for that." He eyed Marcie who glared back at him but said nothing. The smile never faltered, though it did dim a little in annoyance as he continued, "I'm sorry that we could not allow you more time to rest but it seems that my brother is on his way as we speak and I would really rather not meet with him just yet. There is a lot that I still have to do before that can take place." A frown appeared, replacing the smile. "He really does care for you, doesn't he? I wonder why." Green eyes raked over Nick's body with what could only be called hunger and Nick shivered in revulsion. "I suppose I will have to find out for myself." With that he nodded to the klaustreich that surrounded them and then turned away. 

 

Nick had time enough to hear movement behind him before he felt pain pound through his head. Then there was only blackness. 

 

**oOo**

 

The first thing that Nick was aware of when he woke again was that he was lying on something soft and comfortable. Knowing that there was something wrong with that he quickly opened his eyes and sprang up into a sitting position. His eyes closed as his mouth fell open in a silent cry as pain seared across his shoulder and throbbed through his head. Once he was sure that he wasn’t going to whimper from the discomfort Nick opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. 

 

Walls of deep red wallpaper, accented by wood floors which had been stained black , were the first things to grab his attention. Although Nick found the wallpaper to be too gaudy, the darkness of the floors helped to soften it, if barely. The furniture in the room was somewhat less loud and looked as though it had been bought at a house auction in the late 1800s rather than the current century. As the room itself was about the size of a medium-sized apartment, there was plenty of space for a sitting area, complete with two sofas, two armchairs, and a coffee table, as well as the king size bed that he currently lay on. The bed was more modern than the rest of the furniture: the headboard was a in the style of a sleigh bed frame but there was no footboard to complete the look, leaving the linens on the mattress in view instead. What little of the frame Nick could see was the same color as the floor - wood so dark that it was practically black. It complimented the golden comforter, which hid the cream-colored sheets, rather well and the more he looked, the more Nick could admit that the entire setting was rather pleasant to the eye. 

 

The sound of the shower turning off drew Nick’s notice to the bathroom door to the right of the bed. Naturally it was closed but Nick had no trouble picturing who was using it as there was only one other person whom Pierre would pair with him while in confinement. Now that he thought about it, an actual, warm, shower sounded like heaven. Making sure to be careful of his left shoulder, Nick got off the bed, grimacing heavily when he put weight on his injured ankle, and slowly made his way to the dresser which stood against the wall opposite the bed. He didn’t hold out much hope that there would be fresh, good quality, clothing in there but he figured that he might as well check anyways. 

 

“Well look at that,” he said wryly after he had opened the drawer and found clothing which somehow just happened to fit him perfectly laying within. If he hadn't known better, he would have said that someone had broken into his house and had brought his own clothes here. But, as that seemed unlikely and unwise - on Pierre's part at least - he dismissed the brief idea and assumed that Sergio, whom he knew had been watching him, had provided some annoyingly good intel on him instead. 

 

The door to the bathroom opened behind him, making him spin out of instinct rather than thought. Heat immediately rushed into his cheeks when he remembered who it was - had Marcie meant him any harm, she had already had plenty of chances to do so. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she stepped into the room and then sat down on the bed. Her hair, though wet, was pulled back into a braid and it ended in the middle of her back. She looked comfortable, relaxed even, as she sat there in jeans and a tank top. 

 

His breath briefly caught in his throat as his mind brought forth an image of Juliette doing the same thing and it was then that he recognized the cream tank with a blue butterfly printed on it - it had been Juliette’s. Choosing not to remark on his discovery, Nick swallowed his grief and answered, “Uh, okay, I guess,” his brows wrinkling as he did so. 

 

Her expression could have been called doubtful at best but she didn’t comment on it. “Well,” she said, getting up, “I’m sure you’ll feel better after a shower.” 

 

Nick gave a smile, though he didn’t feel it in the least, then grabbed a set of clothes and headed to the bathroom. After closing the door, he sighed and then sat down on the toilet lid. He sat there for a minute and then, with yet another sigh, he started the shower. 

 

**oOo**

 

Marcie waited until Nick had shut the door behind him before she sighed and deflated. She was trying to remain calm and relaxed for Nick’s sake but both of those were the last things that she felt. Itchy and trapped would be better words to replace either calm or relaxed; much as she appreciated the fancy furnishings, they didn’t disguise the fact that they were still being held captive. It made her panther wanted to prowl and rage at her captors.

 

The moment she was alone, she began to pace. Her nervous energy needed somewhere to go and, as she wasn’t naive enough to believe that they would let her out of the room, this was her only option. Though the scenery had changed, hers and Nick’s situation hadn’t and Marcie knew that she would be made to wait and tend. It frustrated her beyond belief that she was being relegated to little more than the role of a concerned housewife in 1913. Given Nick’s injuries, she knew that she could expect nothing good to happen to him every time he left which meant that each time she would be forced to pick up the pieces. 

 

It wasn’t long before the shower shut off and Marcie did her best to look relaxed once more. Rather than sitting on the bed, which she thought might be too provocative given their situation, she chose to curl up in one of the armchairs, grabbing a book slightly before she did so. Not particularly caring what the title of it was, she opened it and proceeded to pretend to read. Nick’s footsteps were uneven as he exited the bathroom, reminding her that she had one last injury that she needed to tend to. Placing the book on the table, thankful that she hadn’t had to pretend to read it long - reading Dickens was a very laborious task - she then went closer to him.”Let me look at your ankle,” she said. He jumped, the movement barely noticeable, then turned around and sat down on the bed. 

 

Hoping that she hid just how nervous she felt, Marcie went to her side of the bed. She had noticed the box of medical supplies that had been in the cave with them when she had woken up and she now went to it to grab one of the bandages and one of the jars of Bud’s liniment which she had replicated. She scanned the grimm as she made her way back, taking in all that she could in the little time that she had had. He’d left his shirt off, evidently anticipating that she would want to examine the brand, and it allowed her to see every bruise that had been created during his first fight. They had slowly begun to develop more, somehow managing to look more painful than the first time that she had seen them. She didn’t miss the way that he favored his left arm or the way he tried to sit so that he didn’t overstretch the side with the worst of the bruising. 

 

Metal scraped against glass as she opened the jar with the liniment. Nick watched her with even more wariness as she grabbed a fair amount and then applied it to the bruises. His muscles twitched slightly at her touch, but he remained still and silent, allowing her to work. When she was done, she moved down to the floor and began to work on his ankle, which was swollen as well as bruised. Rather than applying the goo liberally, she went with only adding a light layer and then finished with the bandage. All in all, the ministrations took maybe five minutes but it had felt like longer. If this was a sign as to how their time alone was going to pass, Marcie would rather be knocked unconscious than wait. 

 

“So,” he said after she’d stood up. “Where do you think we are?” 

 

Marcie washed her hands before answering. “Well,” she said as she exited and then sat down so that she could face him, “I think it’s safe to guess that we are “guests” of suit guy. Do you know what his name is, by the way?” 

 

“His name is Pierre Renard.” Nick scooted back on the bed until he ended at the headboard then placed his hands in his lap, looking as relaxed as if he had been in his own house and not been kidnapped. He sounded exhausted but she couldn’t fault him for that; who wouldn’t be in his position? 

 

“Renard,” she said, trying to absorb the information. “As in, related to the Guardian?” 

 

“He’s Sean’s brother.” 

 

Marcie ignored how familiar the grimm was with the Guardian’s first name; given how the regnant had acted when Nick had been injured, it wasn’t surprising. The idea that she had been kidnapped by the Guardian’s brother was a little harder to process, though; more to the point, the fact that Nick had been kidnapped by the Guardian’s brother meant something else entirely. Evidently, Pierre was trying to break the mated bond between the grimm and the regnant by using the trial to remake Nick into the old-world kind of grimm. She wasn’t sure if that would happen but she wasn’t about to say that out loud in case they were being monitored; the last thing that Nick needed was for her to challenge his captor into making sure the process worked. 

 

“Okay,” she said after a while. She licked her lips to try and wet them while she thought. It didn’t work, of course, and she suddenly found herself wishing for some water and some chapstick. “Well, it’s well known that the Renard family has houses and mansions everywhere so when I say that we could be quite literally any place, I mean it.” 

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Nick agreed though clearly not liking the answer. 

 

He was on the verge of saying more when the room’s main door opened. It had happened so abruptly that Pierre was inside before Marcie had had a chance to fully stand. She finished as he walked over and proceeded to take the seat that she had just vacated. He payed her no attention as she glared down at him; his gaze was fixed wholly on Nick. Doing her best not to strike at him in anger, Marcie went over to sit next to Nick on the bed. She almost reached for his hand, her own fear driving her to do so, but she stopped herself before she did. Even as she got comfortable Nick seemed to pull in, to shut down completely and put up as many walls and barriers as he could in as short a time as possible, leaving her and everyone else on the other side. It was a smart thing to do but it made her feel more alone than she already was. 

 

Her captor sat looking at them both with contentment in his green eyes. “I’m glad to see that you two were able to get some rest and clean up,” he said, his voice sounding only mildly pleased at the facts. Chances were he was only glad for his own comfort rather than for theirs. “As I’m sure that you are well aware, this is your new home for the foreseeable future. Naturally, we will let you out every once in a while so that you do not grow too stir crazy but in the interim you both should become very familiar and comfortable with these four walls.” He paused, no doubt to let it sink in. Then he looked towards Nick. “Now, we have decided to give you a day to heal so you shall have the rest of the day to do so. Tomorrow, after you have had a chance to eat and prepare, you will start again.” 

 

“Who is ‘we’?” Marcie asked, butting into the conversation of which she was clearly to have no part. 

 

Green eyes flashed to an animalistic red, showing her the temper which lay just beneath the uncaring exterior. Marcie allowed her own anger to show, her eyes changing to that of the panther as a result. Pierre observed her for a second and then looked away, indifference clinging to him like a wet blanket. It wasn’t forced and nor had he broken their eye contact out of fear, like many would believe. They both knew that he could take her in any sort of fight, fair or not, and so he had no reason worry about her. 

 

“Suffice it to say that you do not need to know about that, Doctor,” he answered after finishing their standoff. He smiled again, a thing that could have made a penguin feel cold, and then said, “My, my, Ms. Silverton’s clothes look wonderful on you.”

 

Marcie was so caught off guard by the comment that she didn’t have anything to say in return. She blinked, confused, if unwilling to admit it out loud. She knew that she had heard that name before, but at the moment she couldn’t recall where or when. It was when she heard Nick’s breath catch beside her that she remembered. Ms. Juliette Silverton had been Nick’s girlfriend not long ago. While little had been said of her death, it had been enough for the wesen community to know that it had not only been gruesome, but done by a grimm’s hand. Looking over at the glee in her captor’s eyes, she now knew who the grimm had been. Her heart sank. 

 

When she had woken up and found clothes in one of the dresser drawers that fit her, she had been all too happy to take a shower and change into them. Her pajamas were beyond disgusting and she hadn’t had a wish to stay in them any longer than she had. Now, knowing what she did, Marcie wanted nothing more than to strip and get back into those grubby clothes; at least they were hers! 

 

She must have moved or flinched or something because all of the sudden, Nick’s hand was in hers, keeping her still with a clench of his hand. Marcie clung to that lifeline. She needed the support and she suspected that Nick did as well. 

 

“Well,” the regnant said after having seen what he wanted to see. He straightened his suit, though there was no wrinkle in the expensive fabric that Marcie could see, “we will see you tomorrow, Mr. Burkhardt.” The klaustreich who had stood guard over the exit while Pierre had been inside the room, glared at them before damn near slamming the door behind him. 

 

There was silence in the room for a time as they both attempted to sort through their own, separate, thoughts. For her part, Marcie was simply trying to control her desperate need to get out of a dead woman’s clothes. What had seemed to be a treasure now disgusted her to the point of gagging. She couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Nick! 

 

“Well I don’t know about you, but that didn’t really answer any of my questions.” 

 

Marcie growled at Nick’s quip, feeling a woge try to happen as she did so. With yet another growl she forced it to stop. He was only trying to ease the tension they both felt and she knew it; just like she knew that snapping at him wouldn’t make anything better. “I don’t remember you actually asking any questions,” she retorted somewhat colder than she had meant. 

 

“I doubt that anything I could have said would have done any good.” Which only made her wonder what it was that he would have said; or done for that matter as he looked almost on the verge of crying right now.  

 

Rather than sitting on the bed, Marcie got up and began to pace. Nick watched her, his blue eyes trained on her like a hunter’s on prey. Ignoring that image, Marcie began to check the windows. Having established that they had no idea where they were, she hoped that there would be a view of some sort to give them a hint; that and at least if there was something outside to look at she might hold off going entirely crazy. It had been a long shot and she knew it but even so, when she had looked out the window only to find blackness, her heart sank. 

 

“Anything?” Nick asked from behind her. Evidently, he had no intention of getting off the bed, which was probably for the better for him since he shouldn’t be walking on that ankle anyways. 

 

“Well, on the plus side, there will be some sort of view in the morning,” she said as she let the curtain drop and turned around to face him. “The down side is that I have no idea what it will be.” 

 

“In that case, we should probably get some sleep until we can figure it out.” He shimmied down until he was flat on the bed then turned onto his right so that his back was to her. It was then that she noticed that he had dressed in pajama pants rather than jeans and that he had added a shirt while she had been looking out the window. The fact that he had finished getting dressed so quietly disconcerted her. Had he wanted to, he could have pounced on her without her knowing until her face met the floor. 

 

Here’s hoping he remains on my side, she thought as she went over and joined him. While she grabbed a clean pair of sweats, she heard him moving around on the bed. When she exited the bathroom, it was to find that he had gotten under the blankets and looked half asleep already. Finding herself somewhat envious of that, and feeling surprised at her envy, Marcie quickly turned out the light and then joined him in the bed. It felt weird, sleeping next to a man that she barely knew, but that didn’t stop her eyes closing. Before she knew, and sooner than she would have believed five minutes earlier, Marcie was asleep. 

 

**oOo**

 

Dawn found Sean sat in his apartment, staring out at the view of Portland once again. Technically, he was glaring at it but that was neither here nor there at the moment. They had arrived at the mountain in time to see nothing but movement. People had scrambled throughout it, looking like ants from Sean’s and Justine’s perspectives, providing enough of a distraction to make it difficult to pick out Nick from the lot. They had circled nonetheless, of course, but as expected, it hadn’t done any good. It hadn’t been long after they had arrived that several cars going in every direction possible while on top of a mountain began to file out. A spoiled brat he may be but Pierre was no idiot. Someone had alerted him to the fact that Sean and Justine had been coming and he had planned accordingly. 

 

Through the window, the sun began to rise. It cast the sky in a grey gloom that would be gone within the hour when it wasn’t being covered by mountains. Sean watched it all happen with no movement. He was not looking forward to today. Another day with Nick being missing, taken, was not what he wanted in the least; add to that that he had to tell Nick’s friends and Hank that they wouldn’t be going to Yakama to look for Nick but rather for the person who tipped Pierre off, and Sean would rather continue to sit here. 

 

When his phone started to ring, Sean was slower than usual to answer it. His temper was on edge enough as it was and he really didn’t want to deal with the idiocy of humans today. When he noticed the ‘Blocked’ number on his caller ID, Sean had to resist the urge to answer the phone on a growl - or crush the device in his hand. He knew exactly who it was. “What?” he answered. 

 

“Is that any way to treat the man who has your precious grimm, dear brother?” Pierre’s voice pouted. If there was one thing that a British accent wasn’t good at, it was pouting. Rather than making him sound hurt, which was no doubt his goal, he sounded arrogant and snide. 

 

“What did you do to him?” he asked before he could stop himself. That searing pain that he had felt while at the blutbad’s house still puzzled him. Since he knew his brother well enough to discern that almost anything could have been done, he hadn’t been able to decide which it was. Even so, he didn’t necessarily want his brother to know that. Idiot! 

 

“Oh you felt that, did you?” Pierre answered, sounding almost thrilled at the idea. The bastard even chuckled! “Don’t fret, your grimm is well enough. We simply had to remind him of his ancestry.” 

 

Sean grit his teeth, biting back a growl as best he could. There was no way that he would give Pierre anything else if he could help it. So, Pierre had used the brand on Nick. Well, that at least explained the searing feeling rather than a throbbing. He began to debate whether or not to tell Nick’s friends as the information wouldn’t do them any good and it would only wind the blutbad up further. But maybe it would be good to do that. Sean had no doubts that the blutbad and fuchsbau had connections within the wesen community that he didn’t and if this made the pair go to them then the better it would be for Nick. 

 

“What can I do for you, Pierre?” he asked as he pulled his attention back to the conversation at hand. 

 

“Me? Oh nothing. It is I who wished to do something for you, beyond letting your grimm go, of course; we both know that I won’t be doing that until I’ve finished with him.” He chuckled again and Sean felt his grip on his phone increase. The device creaked under the pressure but nothing else happened. “Do you know, I think I might actually study him.” 

 

“Study him,” Sean returned, making sure to put no inflection in his tone at all. 

 

“Yes, I have never turned a grimm who was mated to one of us before. It might be very beneficial to see how much this link of yours will transport. For instance, how much pain does your grimm have to be in before you feel like like your own?” 

 

“Wouldn’t you need to have me there for you to discover that?” Not that he really wanted to be captured and under the control of his sadistic brother, but he might be able to help Nick if he was. 

 

“Perhaps,” Pierre conceded. “But for now, I think I will settle for getting secondhand information. I wouldn’t want you to do something foolish and try to rescue the grimm, after all.” 

 

He hung up after that, leaving Sean to continue to glare out his windows. The fully risen sun found Sean’s apartment empty and his phone shattered on the hardwood floor.

 

**TBC**


	43. Chapter 43

Monroe worked steadily as he helped to fill the orders that came in while Rosalee handled the walk-ins. His mind wasn’t really on the work and his heart wasn’t into it, but as it helped to keep him busy he didn’t see why he shouldn’t do it. Besides, at least this way he got to be with Rosalee. Taking a break, Eddie looked over at his girlfriend, watching as she reassured her current costumer while simultaneously gently shoving them out the door. Once that was accomplished, she let out a sigh of relief and gave Eddie a small smile, looking tired as she did so, before walking behind the counter to where Eddie was. They had just begun to kiss when the door opened again and they both stifled a groan. Or, in Eddie’s case, growl. 

 

“Have you guys found Nick?” Bud stood just inside the doorway practically wringing his hands in worry. He was sweating and seemed agitated but as this was the eisbiber’s usual look, Eddie didn’t pay attention to any of it. His eyes darted from between Eddie and Rosalee, clearly waiting for one of them to answer, practically pleading with them to say that they had and had simply forgotten to tell him. 

 

Regretfully, Eddie pulled away from Rosalee and stepped around the counter. “Not yet,” he answered, feeling guilt and anger begin to revive in him once more. It had been almost a month since the regnant’s brother had taken Nick and they hadn’t been able to find any sign or hint of an idea of where the grimm was. When he had been told that, due to of Renard’s impulsive decision to find Nick on his own, they had lost their chance at getting his friend, Eddie had been incensed. He’d actually snarled at the Guardian, his hackles fully risen and more than ready to spill blood. Rosalee had stepped in, of course, stopping him before anything had actually happened, but it had been a near thing. In the meantime, the brother had managed to take Nick to some undisclosed location and hidden him. None of them knew what was happening to their friend while he was the brother’s guest but they could guess and they didn’t like what their minds produced. 

 

Bud’s face fell. “Nothing? Are you sure? Maybe we should check Yakama again. You know, to make sure.” 

 

Beside him, Rosalee’s head shook but it was Eddie who answered. “Bud, we have checked that mountain range as much as we could. Nick’s not there.” 

 

The search hadn’t been quite as extensive as either Eddie or Hank had wished but as they both had been pressed for time for various reasons they had done what they could. Each weekend they went back, covering slightly more ground. Eddie used his nose while Hank used his eyes. The last time he had been there, Eddie had thought that he had smelled Nick but then night had descended and stronger predators had come out to play, leaving he and Hank to quit the search for the time being. 

 

“But he was, right?” Bud countered, his eyes almost hopeful. “So maybe we could go find some other clue. Or, or something.” 

 

“Who’s we?” Rosalee asked, standing beside Eddie with her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the counter. Her brow was furrowed in confusion but Eddie thought he already knew to whom Bud was referring. 

 

“The Lodge,” the eisbiber answered, managing to sound agitated and firm in one. “Well, at least some of us are willing to go. There are still some that are afraid of the..of Nick so they refuse to help but the rest will. Granted that only leaves about five of us total, but that’s more than I had thought would volunteer, you know? And, and then there’s little Roddy and Holly, they’re willing to hunt down Nick too.” 

 

The way Bud had said ‘hunt down Nick’ made Eddie think that the other blutbad was going to have the grimm for dinner after said hunt was finished but he didn’t point that out. Not only did he know full-well what Bud had meant, he also knew that Holly wouldn’t do that to Nick and mention of it would only serve to make Bud nervous around the girl. “Roddy’s willing to join?” he asked, surprised. Nick’s relationship with the reinigen wasn’t what Eddie would refer to as something other than tedious; if the kid was willing to help look, either Holly had bullied him into it somehow or the kid was slowly warming up to Nick.

 

At that, Bud’s eyes blanked out. Then, seeming to come back to himself he said, “What? Oh, no, he’s not, but Holly is. She’s there now, waiting for us.” 

 

“What do you think you’re going to find?” Rosalee asked, taking the words out of Monroe’s mouth and adding a bit more gentleness to them. 

 

“Probably nothing,” Bud admitted rather rationally and calmly. He licked his lips repeatedly before he added, “But we have to try.” 

 

“Then I’m going with you,” Eddie said. He rubbed his hands on his shirt as though to clean them, even though they hadn’t been dirty, then stepped forward and deposited his apron on the counter behind him.  Like Bud, he knew that their chances of finding any clue or connection to Nick were less than slim, closer to none, but he couldn’t stop the faint burn of hope that had flared at the idea. He was edging towards desperate to get Nick back and anything that he could do to aid in that effort was worth his time. He had tried to get into Yakama after Nick had been moved but the regnant had denied him access in such a way that Eddie knew that both the Guardian and the she-regnant wanted a go at the place (and possibly its inhabitants) first. During the first week after he had been allowed to, he had been gun-ho about searching. He had dragged Rosalee out there, and Hank too, but after finding so little to go on, Eddie had slowly begun to despair and the trips had slowly begun to be less frequent. Maybe with far more of them covering ground, they’d actually find something? 

 

“Me too,” Rosalee said with utter determination in her voice. When Eddie looked over his shoulder at her, she was already clad in her coat with her purse hanging off her shoulder and her keys in hand. It shouldn’t have surprised Eddie that the fuchsbau was going to come as well but it did. He hadn’t known her for very long but he was beginning to suspect that she was the type to be right in the thick of things, no matter what happened or the cost to herself. He had to admit, it was definitely a turn-on. Besides, he silently reasoned, he knew that she cared about what happened to Nick as well and that she felt safer with the grimm in Portland.

 

“You are?” Bud asked, evidently not having expected them to join. “I mean, of course you are. You’re Nick’s friends, why wouldn’t you want to go look? But still, are you sure that you want to?” 

 

“Bud, when have you ever known us to do something that we didn’t want to?” Eddie returned as he too grabbed his coat, keys, and ushered the eisbiber out the door. 

 

“That’s true,” the eisbiber answered as he made his way to his truck, which was parked just behind Eddie’s. “Still, are you sure?” 

 

Eddie rolled his eyes as he opened his car door. “We’ll meet you there.” He shut the door before the older man could say anything more and let out a sigh. When he looked to his right, he saw that Rosalee had a smile on her face. “What?” he asked, wondering why she was so happy. 

 

“It’s cute, the way Bud cares about Nick.” As the car started and headed into traffic, she let loose a sigh as well, adding, “I just hope we find something that will lead us to him.” 

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, answering her sigh with another one of his one. “Me too.” 

 

**oOo**

 

Holly arrived before any of them. She hadn’t expected to get there early as she had spent what little head start she had had arguing with Roddy, wanting him to come and help. Sure, grimms and reinigen have never really gotten along but that was more because grimms tended to cut one’s head off on site and reinigen tended to fight everyone while maintaining a prickly demeanor. In spite of all that, Holly was still disappointed in her friend. She had thought, what with Nick having saved both of them on more than one occasion, Roddy would have warmed to the grimm a little. Apparently, not only had that not happened but the kid now thought that it was best to leave Nick alone and not cross paths with the man at all since one tends to become a target if they do. Needless to say, Holly had left before she could have done something that would have definitely been termed unfriendly. 

 

Expelling a breath of annoyance, Holly pushed away from her old, beat up car and began to pace. She knew from the various updates she had received from Monroe that the older blutbad had already looked over this part of the mountain range and so she wasn’t worried about messing any potential clue up. The fact of the matter was simply this, she was frustrated and tired of waiting and moving was her only option because sitting still wasn’t going to happen. She fought her desire to go off on her own and had barely talked herself out of the idea when a black Dodge pulled up. Recognizing the detective’s car, Holly went over to greet Hank. 

 

“What’d you do, go 100?” he asked as he exited the car and joined her in leaning against her own. 

 

“Of course not,” she answered as turned her head to the side in hopes of hiding her blush. It wasn’t lying, not really. She hadn’t gone 100; 85 to 90 would have been more accurate. Mirroring Hank, she crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to be content to wait some more. A part of her wanted to hug the older man since she was happy to see him again but she settled for standing next to him with their arms touching. Although she wasn’t as close to Hank as she was with Nick, she was friends with him. Technically, it was probably closer to a brother-sister relationship but friends worked for her. The main thing that had held her back from truly getting close to him had been the secret world in which she lived. Seeing as how he had been there when the other grimm had attacked and he hadn’t been freaking out about anything and everything, Holly assumed that he had been informed about the wesen world and so she no longer had anything to hold her back. 

 

He eyed her sideways and said, “Right,” very skeptically. There was a pause and then he added, “But I was close, wasn’t I?” 

 

“Clearly I wasn’t the only one speeding,” she said as the others pulled in right beside their cars. “Hey, did we clear this with the Guardian?” she asked as she waited for the rest of them to file out. “Monroe said that he had been very specific about us not coming here.” 

 

Hank stared at her for a second, his eyes uncomprehending. Then, as if someone had turned the light on, he nodded. “The Captain has said that it’s alright for us to look. Apparently neither he nor his sister had been able to find much beyond what they already knew so he said we were free to waste our time and try as well.” 

 

As weird as it was for Holly to think of the Guardian as “the Captain”, she nodded and then turned to face the others. She realized that Hank was still trying to get used to the wesen world and though the regnant held a very high position in it, to the detective, the man was probably only ever going to be his boss. With a sinking heart, Holly realized that their search team was going to be very small. Which wasn’t to say that she wasn’t happy to see them all, she had just hoped for more people so that they could cover more ground quicker. Nick had been gone too long for her liking and she wanted him back sooner rather than later. 

 

“Hey kid,” Monroe greeted her, making her smile, and giving her a great bear hug. It had taken her a _long_ time to let go of her wilder self, and even longer to trust him, but in eventually both he and Nick had become a part of her family. They were both adopted big brothers to her, though Monroe often treated her more as a pup than a sibling. Although Eddie had refused to share any details that he may have had with regards to what had happened with Nick - things such as where the grimm was, what was happening to him, etc - Holly had noticed that tension was continuing to grow within the older blutbad and she knew that that didn’t bode well for what was currently happening with the grimm. Usually she hated that Eddie tended to treat her more like a child than the adult that she was, but this time, she was more than happy to remain in ignorance as she doubted that any good would come from her knowing the details.

 

“She looks like a full grown woman to me.” Holly didn’t know the woman who stood next to Monroe but a part of her already liked her. She wasn’t sure what sort of wesen the woman was but she knew that she wasn’t blutbadden. Not that it mattered, of course, but still, Holly found herself curious. The woman smiled and put her hand forward. “I’m Rosalee. I’m a recent friend of Nick’s and Monroe’s.” 

 

“Nice to meet you,” Holly responded more out of politeness than truth. Whether or not she would grow to think of this woman as pack as she did Nick and Eddie, and possibly to some degree Hank, was yet to be seen. Still, it never hurt to be nice until more was known. 

 

Looking around, Holly had the distinct impression that Nick was adopting strays as friends. Holly herself surely was one, and though the reinigen would never admit it out loud, Holly knew that Roddy, somewhere in his heart, thought of Nick as a friend. Monroe, she knew, was seen more as an outcast from his kind because he didn’t hunt or partake of any meat whatsoever; add to the fact that his best friend was a grimm and no real blutbad would go near him, at least not the ones in Portland. Bud and his two friends where the oddballs in her theory. They had not disowned their kind and their kind had not disowned them. They adhered to the eisbiber way of doing things most of the time and were about as truly eisbiber as it was possible to be. Yet, they had still befriended a grimm. Oh sure, some of that was out of fear of the grimm, but Bud, she knew, truly cared about what happened to Nick. Then there was Hank, who was about as clueless as to the true forms of those around him as one could be. It was clear that he trusted them all, which made sense since none of them would move against him unless he did it first. But it was just as obvious that he hadn’t looked beyond the human mask that they wore when first meeting them. Had he even seen what a blutbad looked like? Or a löwen? 

 

“So where do we start?” the woman, Rosalee asked, looking between Hank and Monroe. 

 

“We’ll show you,” Hank answered, effectively taking charge and the lead. He didn’t wait to see if the others followed. He simply started heading up the trail.

 

Holly looked at the group for a little while longer then she followed the detective. Whether the rest came wasn’t something she doubted. Nor was their ability to keep up. Right now, her main priority was finding Nick.

 

**oOo**

 

Pierre Renard sat at the dinner table, playing idly with his food while his mind wandered. The grimm was starting to become a problem in more ways than one and he was not sure what do about it. The stubborn fool simply refused to kill. Oh there had been a few accidents and one had come down to the grimm’s life or that of his aggressor but when all was said and done, he resisted needlessly taking a life. The man’s back was almost completely covered by systematic brands and yet he still refused. It had been decided that in tonight’s fight, the grimm would face off with Sergio. But no matter how confident Pierre’s grimm was he still doubted whether anything would come of it. And then there was the matter of his brother. Sean was as persistent as ever in determining his bonded’s whereabouts. He had even managed to bring Justine into the mix. Pierre had steadfastly refused to give either of them any information but he found that, as of late, he was sorely tempted to tell them just so something could change. He wouldn’t do that, of course. He would wait until he was able to confidently trap Sean once he arrived. With his brother’s help, Pierre was sure that he could turn the little grimm into the killer he was meant to be. Until then, however, he wouldn’t risk it.

 

There were many ways in which Pierre could describe his brother; arrogant, self-serving, and pretentious were just a few, but weak had never been among the list. Oh, Sean may be submissive, but that was not the same as weak. As much as he said otherwise, Pierre knew that his brother’s strength, combined with his determination and minimal cunning, would make him particularly hard to catch. Thanks to the training that Pierre and his other siblings had given Sean, the man was suspicious as hell and quicker than a cat. He reacted with the surety of someone who has been taught too well and with enough lethality that Pierre knew that any who went up against his brother would not live to tell of it should he not wish it. Some small part of him recognized that, when the time came, they were more than evenly matched and those were not odds that Pierre was willing to gamble on. 

 

“My lord?” One of the klaustreich in charge of guarding the grimm while he was in his room stood in the entryway which lay in front of Pierre, sharing the same wall as a rather large and ornate hearth. He was tall, well muscled and one of the most vicious of his kind that Pierre had ever seen. There had been many a time when Pierre had had to punish him for his over exuberance, if somewhat halfheartedly; he had hired the man for that particular quality, after all.  After having made sure that he had his boss’ attention, the man remained silent, awaiting instruction.

 

“Have the grimm brought down to the small library in half an hour,” he instructed. He pushed his plate aside, no longer hungry for the pheasant which lay atop it, and sat back into his chair so that he could fold his legs and place his hands in his lap. It was as comfortable as a position as he was likely to get in these infernal chairs so he might as well do it. 

 

“Yes my lord.” He bowed his way out of the room, passing a woman of middling age on his way to deliver the message. 

 

“What was that about?” she asked as she came and joined him at table. Ariana, his wife, was beautiful but cold. She had never been prone to bouts of emotion in all the time that he had known her and it had been that more so than her beauty that had drawn him to her. Their marriage was one of practicality rather than romance which suited them both just fine. They both performed the acts that was expected during a marriage but it was more a duty than a desire. Her tone as she had asked the question implied more expected interest than any real curiosity. 

 

“I’m having the grimm brought to me for a meeting,” he answered, returning her tone to her. Though he knew that both of them were far more interested in the happenings with the grimm than either of them would let on, Pierre refused to show it; after all, whatever weakness he displayed to Ariana could be used against him. Leaning back into his chair, Pierre took his glass of wine with him so that he could nurse it while they talked. 

 

Her answering smile was chilled but genuine. “Did you indeed?” she asked as she took a delicate bite of chicken. “I must admit that he held out far longer than I had thought he would,” she said, referring to his trial. She paused, seeming to consider something, and then added, “Then again, maybe it’s a good thing he has taken so long.” Her eyes flicked over to where Pierre knew that Sergio stood on duty behind him. “It would be nice to have a grimm with such strength on the payroll.” 

 

Pierre chuckled at her jibe against the man. He knew quite well that Ariana not only disliked Sergio but she didn’t approve of him for the most part. She had no quarrels with the man’s methods or callousness. No, she had a problem with how loyal he was to Pierre and Pierre only. As that was the quality that Pierre liked best about Sergio, he did nothing to change it and counseled his grimm on patience with his wife, and also about ignoring her as much possible. 

 

But now that she mentioned it, Pierre wasn’t so sure that he wanted her to take Burkhardt into her employ once his reconditioning was finished. In spite of the fact that the grimm refused to kill, even at the worst of times, Pierre had studied his fighting technique during the trials and had noticed that the man was quite..ingenious when it comes to defeating his foes. Squirrelly didn’t quite cover how he viewed it but it was close enough to work. Even outnumbered or out-muscled, the grimm would win. Oh sure, he would get injured in the process but it was generally something that would heal and therefore nothing to take note of. And since Pierre had effectively upended Burkhardt’s life, it was likely that the newer grimm would have no qualms about taking him out should Ariana instruct him to. 

 

“And yet, for all his strength,” Pierre responded. “He still has one major weakness - he refuses to kill.” 

 

Ariana paused, clearly thinking over what he had just said. Her expression was the same as it had been ever since she’d finished eating but even so, Pierre knew his wife well enough to know what she was doing. Along with her inability to connect with anyone on an emotional level, Ariana also had the habit of thinking before she spoke. Now while with most people, this was more of a background process, his wife preferred to take a minute or two to do so before she opened her mouth. In the beginning it had been an infuriating habit but after ten years of marriage, he was slowly getting used to it. “For some, that does not speak of weakness, but strength,” she answered after a time, her tone almost remonstrative. “And yet, I can see where that would be inconvenient.” Blue eyes slid over to him with something almost like humor in them. “To others, the fact that this grimm is bonded to your brother is more so and should have been the first thing that you concentrated on breaking, rather than his body and mind.” 

 

Ah yes, Pierre wondered when they would get around to that subject. Alongside being a regnant, Ariana was also practical. Their marriage had been one comprising strategics and goals rather than anything so frivolous as love. It was just as well since she didn’t believe in the magical bond which some regnants are lucky enough to find. That was, until she had come face to face with it in the form of Nicholas Burkhardt and Sean Renard. Oh, there hadn’t been proof of it, per se, but there had been times during one of Sean’s many phone calls which he had hinted at something which Nick only should be able to know. It didn’t happen often, of course; mostly it was when Pierre managed to rile his brother so badly that his composure slipped. Needless to say, Ariana not only believed in the magical bond, but she wished to study it. If Pierre could have managed to capture Sean as well as Burkhardt, he knew that his wife would wish both to be within her employ so that she could study them as parts of the whole and the whole itself. Pierre inwardly shivered at the idea of his wife having the pair of them working for her; it would not bode well for him if that ever happened. “Perhaps,” he granted, though refusing to finish his thought. 

 

She smiled rather wolfishly. “Unless one were to have both the grimm _and_ your brother,” she said, finishing it for him. She let the thought linger for a moment before she gave an idle shrug. “That would be ideal, of course,” she confirmed, sipping at her own wine. “If a bit unlikely. You and I both know that Sean would never submit to either one of us.” 

 

“Not of his own accord, no,” Pierre agreed. “To save his grimm, however, he just might.” 

 

“It sounds as though you already have a plan forming, dearest,” she replied. 

 

“Maybe,” he answered, setting down his now empty glass and standing. “For now, we have a meeting with Mr. Burkhardt to attend.” If Pierre had thought he could get away with not including his wife, he would have. But, she always seemed to manage getting involved in them one way or another so he saw no reason for not inviting her outright. If nothing else, it would at least give him some time to observe how they reacted to one another and if Ariana had a chance in hell of getting Burkhardt to work for her.

 

She smiled, taking the hand that he held out for her, and stood as well. Then, providing a united front, they made their way to the small library to await their new grimm. 

 

**TBC**


	44. Chapter 44

When Burkhardt walked into the room, Ariana felt her breath catch. She had felt desire before, of course, but it had rarely been of the physical kind. What had attracted her to Pierre was the power he wielded; that and that he rarely demanded more of her than she was willing to give. He had never once forced himself on her and the few times they had been together, nothing had come of it. After that, she had encouraged him to use other women; she didn’t care if he had bastards, so long as he didn’t try to be affectionate with her. With Burkhardt, however, her heart sped up and she eyed him like she would a suitor. It was too bad that he was bonded already, she would have liked to have him attached to her. He eyed them both with something akin to veiled disgust and unadulterated anger. But however much he appeared to loath them, he kept his mouth shut and remained standing just in front of her husband, waiting on Pierre to address him. 

 

“Ah, Mr. Burkhardt,” Pierre said as though just now noticing the man for the first time. She noticed how Burkhardt’s mouth tightened ever so slightly at the use of his name and she applauded him for not letting his emotions show. For one such as the grimm before her, the lack of use of his detective title was insulting to the point of degradation. “How are you feeling?” 

 

Ariana’s eyes immediately flew to the grimm’s exposed torso. Given what she knew of the man, she doubted that he was laid bare as he was out of his own desire. Her husband obviously meant to humiliate the man as much as he could, while he could, and this was merely one of the ways in which he could do it. All down his front were a myriad of scars. Some appeared to be knife wounds, others were more jagged, as though forced to heal without the aid of the doctor currently in residence. There were a couple wounds which had not finished healing at all, and those drew her attention the most because they were the reddest. One was a jagged cut, as though done with a serrated blade that had been meant to torture but not wound. The other was held together with sewing thread and crossed his chest almost diagonally, starting from his left pectoral muscle and ending just under his right one. Why had the physician not covered that one? Had she wished to show Pierre and herself what they were doing to the man? Or had she not been allowed to? 

 

“I could do without another branding, but otherwise, I’m just peachy,” the grimm quipped dryly. 

 

With the mention of the brands, Ariana’s eyes moved from the front of his torso to the back. Since the grimm was now mostly facing her husband, whom sat in another chair crosswise on her right, he had left his back exposed for her to stare at. Pierre had placed the brands in a very strategic pattern. While the mark itself was the grimms’ ‘G’, he had also begun to make the ‘G’ via connecting all the smaller ones. On either side of the letter lay the singular brand, each covering Burkhardt’s shoulder blades. Tonight, if Burkhardt didn’t kill, Ariana wasn’t sure where her husband would place the next one. It could be that he would start again or he may simply go to the front and begin there, of that she wasn’t sure but she did know that there would be another one. 

 

“Well, you know how to stop those, don’t you?” Pierre taunted. 

 

At that, the grimm’s blue eyes went hard and cold. “I will not kill; not for you, not for anyone,” he said, his voice matching his eyes.

 

“Surely there are instances where it is necessary,” her husband continued. “Oleg Stark, for example.” If it was possible the grimm’s face became even more shuttered and cold, but he said nothing, allowing Pierre to continue. “Clearly you and your blutbad friend thought it was imperative to kill him. So why will you not do so again?” 

 

“That was different,” the grimm argued back. “Stark had a vendetta that he wouldn’t let go of. If he hadn’t been killed, my partner would have died instead.” 

 

Something sparked in her husband’s eyes and Ariana thought that she knew what it was. When she had hinted at him having a plan, he had tried to brush it off, but she knew better than to believe him. Now, however, she was sure that she was right. Not only that but Ariana believed that she knew what her husband was planning. The only thing she could not determine was how he planned to bring it about. Well, that and whether or not it would work. 

 

“So, it’s okay to do it when someone else’s life is at risk?” Pierre countered.

 

It made sense, given Burkhardt’s profession. You didn’t become a cop if you didn’t have a drive to protect others. Tired of remaining a part of the conversation, Ariana stood and made her way to the grimm. Her touch was gentle as she trailed a hand over the burns, tracing the one on his left shoulder in fascination. He stiffened but did not react otherwise. She was surprised but pleased as she had fully expected him to attempt to try and stop her. Instead, he submitted, remaining immobile and allowing her to do as she wished. 

 

“Is there something I can help you with, my dear?” 

 

Pierre’s voice was pleasant enough but Ariana could hear his displeasure nonetheless. She smiled over the grimm’s shoulder. “I am merely admiring your work, my love,” she answered with insincere love in her tone, trailing her hand over yet another burn. With that one, the grimm jerked shortly, the move obviously involuntary. Evidently that one hadn’t stopped hurting him yet and his body had reacted out of instinct rather than command. A small part of her was unhappy that she had caused this strong man some pain but for the most part it barely registered with her. While she didn’t wish for the grimm to correlate her with pain, she also doubted that he could be brought to heel without far more being done to him and that she would not stop. 

 

Over the grimm’s shoulder, she saw Pierre’s smile turn chill, as though he knew what she was feeling as she gingerly ran her fingers over the grimm’s exposed body. Ariana inwardly shrugged; let him think what he wished, he would not do anything without proof. “I’m pleased to hear that you are appreciating it for I fear that, should Mr. Burkhardt not do as he is instructed tonight, it will no longer be so beautiful.” 

 

Under her fingers, Ariana felt the grimm stiffen. _Message received,_ she thought as she allowed her hand to fall to her side. What Pierre thought he could do to mar the pattern on Burkhardt’s back, she hadn’t a clue, but Ariana also knew that the threat of pain was far more effective than the pain itself normally was. Once she stepped away so that she could sit back down, the grimm shifted a little, as though to take weight off one of his legs. His feet were bare but his dark jeans were long enough, and loose enough, to hide anything that could be wrong. She refrained from asking about it, however. Her husband was already suspicious enough, she didn’t wish to add to it.

 

The silence which followed lasted until Pierre grew tired of it and broke it. It took a full five minutes before that happened, of course, but her ever boastful and impatient husband could never hold his tongue for too long. “Well,” he said with false cheer, “I suppose you should try and get some rest whilst you can before the fight. Arno will come fetch you when it is time.” 

 

And with that, the grimm was dismissed. With his jaw tightly clenched, Burkhardt exited, limping ever so slightly. Ariana watched him go, saddened that the next time she would see him would be when he was in the ring, for she doubted that he would survive against Sergio. Pierre’s grimm had orders not to hesitate, to kill if he got a chance and Ariana had no doubt that the man would do as instructed. Either Pierre was trying to make Burkhardt kill out of instinct, or he’d get the man killed and her husband was clearly fine with either outcome. For her part, Ariana stood up and went out of the room to patiently wait for the match to begin within the privacy of her own quarters. No doubt their guests would be arriving soon but until then, she refused to spend any more time in her husband’s company than was necessary. 

 

**oOo**

 

In full woge, Marcie prowled hers and Nick’s room. During their prolonged stay, she had been allowed out of the room, thankfully, but it was usually to join her “hosts” for a dinner or to walk around in the greenhouse. All of the windows in the house were opaque enough not to allow her to discern the surroundings, which meant that neither she nor Nick still had any clue where they were. It made her feel caged and she didn’t like it. But that wasn’t what had her pacing back and forth in their room, well, that wasn’t the only reason anyways. They had taken Nick down to speak with Pierre about half an hour ago and she felt not only restless but anxious as well. Given their forced captivity, Marcie had come to care for Nick not only as a doctor would her patient, but as a friend as well. They had gotten to know one another through their hours of isolation and while nothing had been particularly in depth, it was still enough for a friendship to form.

 

As promised, Pierre had allowed Nick two days of healing but then he had forced the grimm back into the ring. Amazingly, Nick was able to survive the fight but he was seriously hampered by his previous injuries, the chief amongst them being his ankle. The liniment she had applied their first night here had helped significantly but even with it the injury would have needed more than a day and a half of rest before it would have been healed. Since that hadn’t happened, the ankle was left weakened, unable to heal fully. As a result, Nick kept re-injuring it in varying degrees. This last fight had been two nights ago, two nights being the maximum amount of time Pierre Renard seemed able to leave Nick alone, and the grimm had, of course, hurt his ankle again. Overall the injury could have been worse but it was the fact that, once again, he wasn’t being given time to recover that was hampering more than helping. His limp had been quite heavy when he’d left. She only hoped that he had been allowed to sit down while he’d been “talking” with the regnant. 

 

When the door opened, Marcie crouched low, prepared to pounce on any unwanted person that entered. She relaxed ever so slightly when she recognized Nick’s scent, growling more than a little in displeasure when she saw that he was heavily favoring his right leg. The men who had escorted the grimm, however, ignored her, closing the door on them with indifference. She stopped growling as soon as the door was closed and once she was sure they were alone, she woged again, back into her human form. 

 

“Are you alright?” she asked, remaining where she was. It was beginning to be too common a question for her and she was heartily sick of it being necessary to ask. Not that she was angry with the grimm for not revealing injuries, because she knew that was never going to happen, but because it was almost guaranteed that he would be harmed while he was out of her presence. 

 

He smirked, this time making it look like he was simply too tired to fully smile. “I’m fine. He just wanted to talk at me.”

 

Marcie smiled at the way he mentioned the conversation. No doubt, Pierre had hoped for more of a conversation than what he got. Still, there was a tenseness in her friend that hinted at more than talk happening. Since she knew that he wouldn’t tell her the reason for it, she didn’t ask, instead simply trying to take the information he’d given at face value. When he went over to the dresser and pulled out what he had termed his fighting clothes, Marcie stiffened. “He’s still making you fight tonight?” She knew that it had been foolish to hope that the regnant would have considered giving Nick a longer break but hope she had. 

 

“Yeah,” the grimm answered, making it sound like it had always been a foregone conclusion. Stupid man, he probably hadn’t even thought to ask for an extension. Male pride wins again! “Why wouldn’t he?” 

 

As he immediately went into the bathroom to change, Marcie held onto her answer, and her temper, so that he would be able to hear her when she did speak. He came back out with the loose pants on and his jeans folded in his hands. While he put the jeans away, she answered him. “Because you need more time to heal and you know it. He probably knows it too and is waiting for you to ask him.” 

 

“Well then he’s going to be waiting for hell to freeze over because that’s when that will happen,” the grimm quipped. Rather than sitting down, which Marcie had fully expected and wanted him to do, Nick remained standing and crossed his arms over his chest in as defensive a posture as he could get with her. 

 

“Does your pride mean more to you than your health?” she countered angrily, frustrated to the point of wanting to slap him. 

 

“My pride,” he returned just as hotly, though his voice attempted to chill the room, “is what’s keeping me sane; it’s what’s keeping me from giving in because if you want me to be perfectly honest, there has been times where it would have been easier to kill the other person in that ring. They have thrown people at me who are little better than thugs and it would have been so easy just to kill them, if for no other reason than that the world is better off without them. I don’t know how much more branding I can take but my _pride_ ,” he practically sneered the word, “is what’s stopping me from doing it because I refuse to let them turn me into a monster.” 

 

Well, that had been more than she had been prepared for. One and a half months they had been held together and never during that time had he ever opened up to her that much. Oh she knew that what he was being put through was affecting him but she hadn’t known just how much. She also didn’t know how to make all of it easier for him to bear because bear it he must and they both knew that. But how do you help a person withstand torture when you yourself have never experienced it? How does one help beyond patching him up to do it all over again? 

 

Across from her, Nick sighed, practically deflating. He scrubbed his hands over his face, allowing them to run all the way through his hair before falling motionless at his side. “I’m sorry,” he said sounding defeated. “I didn’t mean to practically yell all that.” 

 

“I hadn’t even realized that you had been yelling,” And she hadn’t. She honestly didn’t think that he had but that he had felt like he had. “I wish that I could help you,” she admitted futilely.

 

“I know,” he acknowledged, knowing that she had meant more than simply giving him medical care. 

 

He looked as though he was about to say more when the door opened and Arno, the leader of the klaustreich on the premises, walked in. His tone was sneering but his expression showed nothing of it as he said, “I hope that you have some of that anger left, grimm. You’re going to need it for tonight you face  the prince’s grimm in the ring.” 

 

Fear and dread dropped Marcie’s heart into her stomach. Surely the regnant didn’t truly intend to make Nick fight Sergio. Even with all the fights that he’d had, Nick was still a new grimm. Not only was he moderately untested but he didn’t have nearly the right amount of experience or lethality with fighting as Sergio did. When Arno turned to her and his expression turned into a sneering smile, her anxiety increased. “You my darling get a treat tonight for you are to join the prince and his wife for the fight.” It was then that she noticed he held a garment bag. He laid it on the closest chair and said, “Get dressed. The prince does not like to be kept waiting.” 

 

And with that, he stepped aside to allow Nick to go before him then left Marcie to do as she was told, closing the door behind him. She should be happy to be leaving the room but all she could feel was anger and despair. Not only would Nick have to fight for his life, but she was being forced to do nothing but sit and watch on the sidelines. Oh, Sean Renard, where are you? 

 

**oOo**

 

The room that Nick would be fighting in was the same one he had been visiting ever since he’d been Pierre’s “guest”. It was just as large as the one in which he had first fought, cavernous being the best word he could think of to describe it, with a ring marked out in chalk in the middle. Four fire pits marked the four poles; they were deep and set back into the walls so that the smoke went up and out of the cave. Along the walls, carved out of the stone and separated by the fire pits were seats for spectators. Most of them were simply benches, the more to seat with the smallest amount of effort. With the North fire pit split between them, however, lay more elaborately carved seats, complete with cushions and fur blankets for those who could pay highly for the comfort. 

 

As he past the doorway, Nick heard a roar such as he had never heard coming from there before. It made him pause in his step for a moment as fear froze him in place. Normally the cave was filled with those of Pierre’s household and few more. Nick had gotten used to their jeering, the yells of encouragement if it looked like someone might die; they were loud but nothing as tumultuous as what he had just heard. Arno pushing him towards the holding cell where he usually spent the pre-fight minutes snapped him out of his pose and had him walking, his heart racing all the while. Evidently the fight with Sergio tonight was the main event and Pierre had invited all he knew to witness it. 

 

“It doesn’t matter how many you justly kill or don’t kill. You know that right? Until you kill an innocent, he’ll never stop.” It was the first time that the klaustreich had spoken to him without any form of malice or disgust in his voice but as there was only the two of them there was no mistaking that it had been him who had spoken. Nick smirked then looked his guard up and down. Though the words had been said as matter of fact as possible, it was obvious that he didn’t care one way or the other if they were taken to heart. When it appeared to the man that Nick wasn’t going to respond he shrugged, closing the door. “One thing’s for sure, tonight, people are going to get what they paid to see - a grimm dead.” 

 

Nick waited for Arno to leave before he sat down, practically deflating onto the bench. So, that was what Pierre wanted - a killer, someone who had no compunctions about ending someone’s life no matter if it was necessary or not. Nick had to admit that if he were to be forced to do this for too much longer, he would slowly become accustomed to killing which would make killing an innocent far easier than it had been when he’d first been brought. It was a good plan and unfortunately for him, it was one that was bound to work, given the right amount of time. Over the past month, Nick had slowly felt his belief in being found dwindling. It was still there but it was nowhere near as strong as it had been when Pierre had first taken him. 

 

A searing headache instantly made him stop thinking. Nick gasped with it, hands instantly going to his head. Once he was able to think properly, he could feel Sean in the back of his mind and he relaxed enough to allow his lover’s consciousness to flow into his. Somewhere in his mind he wondered why it hurt so much for the connection to be made but he pushed that aside to wonder over later. He could feel worry coming from Sean, but also a sense of triumph. Had that meant that he had been found? That his friends were on their way? He sent his confusion, and his hope, across the link then waited. 

 

What came back to him were images that, once connected made a larger picture which created the thoughts that Sean wished to convey. The first of them was an image of Pierre Renard, conveyed along with such a feeling of hatred that Nick felt it speeding his heart rate with its intensity. The next was a rather large castle set upon an even bigger, cold, mountain range. There was a note of familiarity with that one, something mixed in memories which nick didn’t have the time to decipher. Was that where he was being held? The next series of images came in quick flashes but Nick didn’t need to take time to decipher them, they were pictures of his friends: Monroe, Rosalee, Bud, Holly, and Hank, alongside that of Sean in regnant form and another whom Nick didn’t know. With those came the feeling of urgency, an emotion driven out of their desire to get to Nick sooner rather than later, as well as hope and reassurance. They were one their way, that Nick no longer doubted. Now all he had to do was survive this fight with Sergio.

 

After a moment’s pause, Nick tried to convey what he could to Sean. The fights, Marcie’s confinement, the cavern, all of it. He included the events of tonight as well, adding whom he was fighting and that Sean’s brother had Marcie with him. He added his own urgency to the mix, excluding what was happening to him at the end of every fight. Of all the things that Sean and his friends needed to know, the brands were not among them. Not yet. Nick could tell when the information was absorbed and put aside for when they arrived for there was a sense of absentminded notice coming from Sean not long after. As the door to his cell opened, Nick received a feeling of hope and encouragement and he inwardly nodded, showing no emotion on his face. 

 

 _Don’t worry,_ he thought as he walked out of the cell and headed to the cavern. _I’ll win this._

 

**oOo**

 

The din that greeted him as he entered was staggering to the point of overwhelming. Refusing to give in to the surge of astonishment and fear, Nick straightened his back and kept walking. He did his best to ignore all the jeers, taunts, and cries for his death but it was hard. Sergio’s name was included in the mix as well but it was cried out far less often than Nick’s was and there was far more hatred in them when Nick’s name was mentioned. Ahead, where Pierre and his wife were sitting, Nick saw Marcie among them, looking stunning in a black dress with her black hair falling all about her. Their eyes met and he hoped that he eased the worry he saw in hers but he wasn’t positive. Barefoot and shirtless, he stepped into the ring. 

 

He knew almost immediately when Sergio entered. The din hadn’t lessened at all but the tone of it changed so that there was less anger and more support. Nick clenched his jaw, refusing to show that he’d noticed that anything different. Unlike himself, Sergio seemed to enjoy the attention. He took his time in making it to the ring, encouraging the the cries and noise. When he entered, dressed in the same fashion as Nick, he was smiling, looking elated and energized. His brown eyes held a gleam as he stared at Nick, smirking a little too much to show his pleasure. “What do you say, Burkhardt? Are you ready to see who’s the better grimm?” 

 

Nick returned his smirk, refusing to show how discomfited he was. “I don’t need to fight to tell me that,” he answered. “I already know that I’m better than you.” 

 

The gleam in Sergio’s eyes dimmed ever so slightly but rather than retort he turned his back to Nick to pay his tribute to Pierre. In the beginning of it all, Nick had been struck by the similarities between The Trial and the Gladiator Games in the times of Rome. Before each fight, the fighters were expected to salute the prince, to spill some of their blood for him as a sort of ritual. Every time Nick refused and every time he was physically forced to do it, weakening him ever so slightly before each fight in the process as the wesen which cut him ensured that the wound would be deeper than his opponent’s. Nick supposed that he could have saved himself by doing it for himself but he wasn’t sure that anything he did would be satisfactory unless it was deep. 

 

Refusing to allow himself to be weakened before this fight, Nick stepped forward so that he was shoulder to shoulder with Sergio. He waited until he was passed the ceremonial knife and then, with jaw clenched, he drew the knife across his chest, making sure to draw blood while keeping the cut relatively shallow. The satisfactory gleam he could see in Pierre’s eyes made him want to throw the knife at the prince but he stamped down on the instinct, choosing to turn his back on the man instead. 

 

Unlike most legal fighting matches in the United States, there was no specific time to start. during these fights, there was no person to say when to begin, you simply did. Nick found that patience was the best way to start off, letting his opponent come to him rather than attempting to go first. Since all of the other challengers had been wesen, and therefore stronger and faster than he was, it had made sense not to throw the first punch. Offense was often easier, of course, but so was allowing your enemy to wear themselves down a little before you actually joined the fight. 

 

The trouble with that strategy was that Sergio knew all of that as well and, like Nick, he was perfectly content to wait for Nick to come at him. It wasn’t long before the crowd around them began to grow restless, annoyed by the waiting that they had already done and only to find two men who refused to go first. 

 

“So how long do we stand here, eh?” Sergio commented, smiling and looking as comfortable with the surroundings and circumstances as can be. “I suppose one of us should make the first move before they start to get truly angry with us. If it helps, you are more than welcome to make the first hit.” 

 

Nick smirked, not taking the bait. “I could stand here all night,” he answered, attempting to exude calm and nonchalance. 

 

Brown eyes raked over Nick’s, stopping on each and every injury that could be seen, and one or two that could not. They gleamed even more in humor, but this time there was also a hint of feral lust in them as well. “No you couldn’t,” he countered then sighed. “And as I do not particularly wish to stand here all night and stare at you, I suppose that we should begin.” He held out his hand and one of the klaustreich who surrounded the ring placed a leaf-shaped sword into it. It looked old but sharp and Nick could tell by the way Sergio handled it that he had had plenty of practice with it. Great. 

 

Weapons were permitted, of course, even encouraged, but rare was the time when _Nick_ was allowed one. More often than not, his first task was to disarm the opponent then use the weapon himself at which time another was introduced so that it would be considered a fair fight. As the fights had progressed, the challengers had increased in skill to the point where Nick hadn’t been able to get the knife away from the man. Instead, he had taken a deep cut to the chest, currently held together with stitches which were sure to burst tonight, and had only managed to kill the man mostly by sheer chance than any sort of skill. Tonight, he had no doubt that he would be able to get the sword away from Sergio, he’d managed to best the man once after all, but he wasn’t sure that he would be able to win if it came down to swordplay. 

 

He processed all of that within seconds and the predatory smile that Sergio gave him told him that the other grimm knew the exact train his thoughts had taken and what his conclusion had been. There was a feeling of triumph coming from the man which would have rubbed Nick the wrong way had it not been for the fact that he felt it was almost entirely justified. Still, Nick had come up against worse odds and beat them and he knew that that had to happen to tonight. Steeling himself for what was to come, Nick gave a brief nod of acknowledgement then said, “Let’s get this over with.” 

 

**TBC**


End file.
